Like Mother, Like Daughter
by originella
Summary: Iana Gallagher-Blomqvist is the daughter of Murphy Gallagher (twin sister of Ian Gallagher), and Mickey Milkovich, after being conceived during a drunken night in Mexico. At sixteen, Iana's life could be going from somewhere to nowhere, as she is pretty much all over the place due to her beautiful yet broken mind. As she attempts to come clean, she realizes she needs to be herself.
1. Wild Heart

Chapter One: Wild Heart

"You're sixteen _today_ , Iana," Franny grumbles for what must've been the ten-millionth time since I started my shift at Patsy's that morning, just before the breakfast rush. "I mean, I would've thought you'd be over the moon…"

I shrugged, rolling my shoulders and leaning back against my locker, watching as Franny re-applied her lipstick. "Oh, I don't know, Franny," I muttered, the coldness of the metal locker behind me feeling good on my back, due to the heat of the late-May day. "My parents gave me a car this morning, so…"

"Wheels are great," Franny said, smacking her lips slightly obnoxiously as she slammed her locker door shut with a slight sigh. "But seriously, I got mine almost three years ago and look where that got me. "A minimum-wage job in my aunt's diner, a crappy apartment, and not to mention my beautiful son…"

"Ezra's amazing," I said to my best friend, although I was immediately on the defensive for the sake of my first-cousin-once-removed. "What's the problem with having him?"

"Gee, I don't know, Iana. Maybe the notion that I followed in my mother's footsteps and got pregnant as a teenager…"

"It wasn't deliberate, and you know it," I said, smirking over at her, as we both knew that my aunt and her mother, Debbie, had technically gotten pregnant on purpose by lying to Franny's birth father, Derek, about being on the pill.

Franny rolled her eyes, reaching out and flipping me around, tightening my long ponytail, which was secured by a simple hair tie, which did its very best to keep my raven mane in place. "Come on then, you," she said, turning me around then and squeezing my shoulders. "Our break is up in a few and I know you wouldn't want your mom yelling at us."

"It's my birthday," I shot back playfully as we made our way outside, and into the lion's den, also known as the dining area of the restaurant. "I don't think she would…"

"Please, your mom fucks your dad in the office sometimes," Franny said.

I raised my eyebrows dramatically. "My mom fucks my uncle?! Oh, my!"

Franny laughs aloud then. "Okay, okay, point taken," she replies. "Our family is weird, but you're not the first one to think so. Get in line, Gallagher."

"That's Gallagher-Blomqvist to you," I laughed back.

Franny shakes her head. "More like Gallagher-Milkovich," she mutters, retreating to the other side of the restaurant to take some poor soul's order, while I stand behind the counter, adding up my dips since breakfast four hours ago, and know I shouldn't say anything back.

. . .

I get off work around three that afternoon, getting into my car and driving down the road towards home. My mother will be holed up at the office at work for another couple of hours, despite the fact that it was Saturday, while my father was bringing his work home with him more and more to look after my younger siblings. As I pulled up in front of the house and got out of my car, I made my way into the yard and up the stairs, letting myself inside with my key. Placing the set of them into the back of my jeans pocket, I made my way through the living room, hearing no signs of my younger siblings, thirteen-year-olds Clayton and Fionn, seven-year-old Carla, or four-year-old Charlie around.

Stepping into the kitchen, I spotted a note taped to the fridge, informing me that dear old Dad had taken the kids to our grandparents' place for the afternoon. Shrugging it off, I considered heading upstairs to crash for a while, were it not for the great timing of my cell phone, which decided to buzz right then and there. Groaning aloud, I fished it out from my other back pocket and unlocked it, keying in the password quickly before spotting a new text message. I soon realized it was from 'Pops', and smirked to myself, opening it up.

 _Happy birthday_ , _kid_ , it read. _Come on over_. _Ian and I have the day off and we miss you_.

Shaking my head at my biological father's attempts at being endearing, I trudged over to the front door, letting them know I was heading across the street. Shutting and locking the front door behind me, I quickly crossed the yard and made my way onto the sidewalk and then the street, and finally arrived on the opposite side. I went through the gate and up the stairs, turning the handle of the door, already unlocked, and stepped inside the home which had been mine off and on for a few years during childhood.

"Pops? Uncle Ian?" I called out.

"In here, Iana," Uncle Ian called back.

I shut the front door, stepping into the living room and making my way into the kitchen. I stopped in the doorway for a moment, smiling at the look of love that Uncle Ian and my biological father, Mickey Milkovich, gave to one another as I stepped inside, inadvertently breaking up the moment. "Hey, guys," I said, picking up my hand in an automatic gesture and waving to them both. "What's going on?"

"Well, kid, it's your birthday," Pops replied, getting to his feet and walking over to me, before pulling me in for a hug, which I automatically returned.

"Pops, I'm not a kid anymore," I chided him gently, before playfully pushing him out of my arms and we mockingly threw up our fists towards one another, and laughed aloud, while Uncle Ian stood smirking across the kitchen. "I'm sixteen, and proud of it."

"What are your plans for today?" Uncle Ian asked casually.

I shrugged, making my way over to the fridge and getting out a beer; I watched as they mutually hesitated for a moment, but they ultimately said nothing as I popped the cap myself and sipped the Old Style from the bottle. I'd been drinking since I was thirteen, but I'd never managed to overdo it, or in front of my mother, who was an alcoholic. "I don't know," I replied. "I mean, I graduate in a few weeks, and finals start on Monday. I guess it's my last weekend of freedom for a while until college acceptances start rolling in…"

"Carrying on a tradition," Uncle Ian said, smiling at me.

"Yeah?" I ask him, tipping the bottle back into my mouth, the sensation of the booze no longer a constant burn in my throat. "How?" I want to know after I swallowed.

"Your mom, no matter how much we love her, likes to go on and on about how great it is that she graduated at sixteen," Pops replied, smirking to himself as he crossed over to Uncle Ian, and managed to snag his cup of coffee.

I scoffed then, crossing one arm as I leaned back against the fridge, continuing to knock the bottle of beer back almost effortlessly. "I love her, too," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "But, yeah, I guess you're right…"

"She told you the story?" Uncle Ian asked.

I nodded, clearing my throat to prevent the beer from accidentally invading my windpipe. "Yeah, of course she did," I replied. "Told me right before she got the charges against Pop's dropped, and before your wedding."

"Hell of a day," Pops replied, making a face at Uncle Ian, who quickly managed to snag his mug of coffee back from him. "I'll never be able to thank her enough for that. Not to mention Nicholas adopting you like that."

I smirked. "Wish you could take it back?"

Pops shook his head. "No, of course not. It's enough to know that you're mine, and you all acknowledge that enough to let me see you whenever we want."

"Of course you can," I replied. "I'm sixteen, not six. I'd be pretty hard for my mom and dad to just forbid me from seeing you…"

"They might say something if they saw you drinking _that_ ," Uncle Ian said, nodding at the half-drunk bottle in my hand.

I scoffed, continuing to drink it, as I gripped the bottle in my hand. "You know as well as I do that I'm half-Gallagher, and Gallagher's drink."

"You're also half-Milkovich, but you would beat someone up for who they were," Pops replied, and my cheeks flushed at the implication.

"Your dad?" I asked, my voice quiet.

Pops sighed. "Yeah, my fucking dad."

"He's a jackass anyway," I muttered, my skin crawling as I took another swig of my beer. "Son of a bitch needs to learn to keep his hands to himself…"

Pop's eyes darkened at my words, his face contorting into an expression of rage. "What the fuck did he do?!" he demanded.

"Mick," Uncle Ian said, his voice firm.

"It's fine, Uncle Ian," I replied, turning back to Pops. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"What did he do?" Pops said, speaking through his teeth.

"Saw me walking home from work one night a few weeks back," I replied. "He said some things, and when I ignored him, he started following me."

"Jesus," Pops whispered, walking towards me and taking my beer bottle, chugging it for a moment before handing it back to me. "And then what?'

"Asked me for my number, tried to grab me," I said, shrugging it off. "Once we walked under a street light, though, he got ahold of me, and saw my face. Dropped me like I'd burned him or some shit," I said nonchalantly, sipping the rest of my beer.

"Probably figured out who you were," Pops said, shuddering.

"Please, I slammed my forehead into his nose to get him to get out of my face," I said, laughing a little then as I tossed my beer bottle into the bin. "Besides, it's not like I'm completely inexperienced, you guys."

Uncle Ian rolled his eyes. "Who else knows you've hooked up with half your school?"

I scoffed. "It was not half the school, Uncle Ian," I replied. "It was a fair amount of the student body, let's say that. And half implies that I only fucked the guys," I said, fixing them both with a look before I turned around and retrieved another beer from the fridge.

"Wait, what?" Pops asked, confused for a moment.

"What?" I asked back, getting the bottle cap off the beer bottle and sipping it slowly, knowing that I needed to pace myself. "I'm sixteen. I can fuck whoever I want."

"Better not let your mom hear that," Uncle Ian put in.

I shrugged. "What? I don't see a problem with fucking the opposite sex, or the same sex. It's totally consensual."

"My ears, my ears!" Pops cried out, covering them in a dramatic fashion. "You're my daughter! I really don't need to hear that!"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, for the love of…" I muttered, tipping some more beer down my throat.

"Just explain something to me, one thing," Uncle Ian said as Pops lowered his hands slowly from his ears.

I shrugged. "Ask away. I have nothing to hide."

Uncle Ian looked slightly uncomfortable then. "How can you fuck men and woman, and not identify as bisexual?" he asked.

"Because I'm pansexual," I replied patiently. "It all depends on the personality of the individual I'm hanging out with, and then if I enjoy it enough, fucking's on the table."

"You've got such a pleasant way of phrasing things, Iana," Pops muttered.

"Thanks a lot," I replied, taking another swig from my beer bottle, and making a slight noise in my throat then as my phone vibrated from my back pocket. Rolling my eyes, I got it out, seeing that it was a text from Franny. "It's Franny," I replied, unlocking my device and checking the message quickly.

 _Just wanted to remind you that Mom is still on that welding trip with little Ezra, so I expect you to meet me back at the diner at seven, an hour after closing. Love you_!

"I have no idea what she's planning," I muttered, knowing that they would want my opinion on the subject, as I wrote her back, confirming that I'd be there. "She probably just wants to dig into the new shipment of kegs my mom got. Ever since Mom got a liquor license for the diner, the sales are rivaling The Alibi."

Pops smirked. "Well, I doubt it'll beat your last birthday."

I scoffed. "Really? It was the fucking shooting range," I replied, shaking my head as I pocketed my phone again. "Mom wouldn't talk to you for three weeks afterwards."

"Hey, it was your birthday and you had a good time," Pops replied, throwing up his hands in a moment of surrender. "That's all that matters, right?"

"Please," I said. "Mom spent hours on the phone with Aunt Fiona about it, and then she and Uncle Jimmy bought me fucking self-defense courses. And then Aunt Debbie made me take those god-awful karate classes…"

"Yeah, but you passed the course in six weeks, and now you have a black belt in karate," Uncle Ian replied patiently.

I rolled my shoulders. "It's not always a good topic of conversation when my exploits want the blow-by-blow of my belt display, or want to know why I have a fucking punching bag hanging from my ceiling," I replied.

"Why?" Pops asked.

I scoffed. "Because they either think of it as a turn-on, or they think I'm going to fucking kill them. So then they either demand rough sex, or get the hell outta there…"

"They still using that ladder Uncle Kev and Lip set up for you?" Uncle Ian asked, a smirk forming on his mouth again.

I gave a stiff nod. "Yeah. Mom and Dad were pretty pissed about that, but once I started on the pill, and Dad got me a shit ton of condoms, they didn't say much about it…"

"It's after five," Pops said after a few moments of silence. "If you're anything like me, you'll wanna crash before the big night."

I rolled my eyes. "I know my mom's gonna kill me, no matter what happens," I muttered as I finished the last few ounces of my beer and tossing it into the recycling. I crossed the room to Uncle Ian and hugged him. "Love you," I said, turning to Pops then, and laughed aloud when he yanked me into his arms, just like he always did. "Love you, Pops."

"Love you, too, kid," he replied.

I vaguely heard them talking amongst themselves behind me as I made my way to the front door, pulling my leather jacket around me. I ran my hands along the fabric for a moment as I opened the door and headed outside, shutting it behind me. It had once belonged to my mother, but she had given it to me soon after my father had come back to all of us. Now that it fit me, it seemed like I had a little piece of her to carry around, wherever I went…

. . .

" _Remember what Mama told you?"_

 _I turned and looked at my mother then, before forcing my neck to nod. "Yeah, Mama. Not to tell who we're going to see."_

 _She smiled. "That's right, sweetheart."_

 _I pursed my lips then, attempting to figure out what I could and couldn't ask. "Who are we going to see, Mama?"_

 _She reached back and squeezed my hand. "That's a surprise, my love."_

 _We drove through the checkpoint soon thereafter, and I did my best to keep smiling and silent as the heavyset woman regarded us from her post. I swallowed slightly as my mother effortlessly handed over our passports, and my attention wandered to a bit of frayed fabric upon my booster seat, and slowly pulled at it, but not too much, knowing that my mother likely wouldn't be happy if I ruined it completely. Once we were clear to drive through, I did my best to look through the window at the sections of barren-looking land all around us, a lump forming in my throat as I attempted to figure out what we were doing there._

 _Once we arrived, Mama pulled off the highway and into a parking lot and found a space with ease, and got out of the car. Immediately, she opened the back door and unstrapped me from my car seat, holding me tightly in her arms for a moment as she shut and locked her car. Putting her keys into her pocket, she wandered over to the edge of the lot, almost as if she was searching for something around the back bend of the building. A trial of smoke and the scent of cigarettes wafted into my nose, reminding me of most of my family, and then I saw the figure, slightly slouched, against the surface of the building, wondering if it was him we came to see._

" _Mickey," Mama said, carefully, watching as this man seemed to stiffen automatically, before he turned around and looked shocked to see my mother. "Been a long time," she went on, as he looked from her, to me, and back again. "Sorry about that."_

 _The strange man looked shocked then as he looked down at his hand and immediately moved to put out his cigarette. "Hey, Murphy."_

" _Hey, there," she said softly, as I looked from my mother to Mickey and back again, a spark of recognition igniting within me._

" _Who's this, Mama?" I whispered._

 _Mickey looked shocked. "She's your kid?"_

" _This is my daughter," she replied. "Sweetheart, this is Mama's good friend, Mickey. Why don't you introduce yourself, okay?"_

" _Hi, Mickey," I said, and waved to him, and her looked shocked at my interaction towards him as I found myself immediately moving to get out of my mother's arms, and, reluctantly, she seemed to let me. "Nice to meet you," I went on, walking promptly up to him and putting out my small hand._

 _Mickey did his best to smile down at me. "And what's your name?"_

" _Iana Phillipa Gallagher-Blomqvist," I replied, and noticed that Mickey's eyes looked pained for half a moment before looking up at my mother._

" _Blomqvist?"_

" _My husband's name," my mother replied from behind me._

" _My daddy adopted me," I said, and I bit my lip, unknowing how Mickey would take this information, as it seemed terribly personal._

 _Mickey lowered his eyes back down to me. "Adopted you? Why?"_

" _Because my real daddy is far away," I replied, wondering for a moment if I was giving away too much to this perfect stranger. "Mama says that maybe I'll meet him someday, but I don't know where he is..."_

" _How old are you, Iana?" he asked._

" _I turned four a month ago," I replied. "My birthday is May twentieth."_

" _Four?" Mickey whispered, dragging a hand across his mouth then before his gaze slowly rose upwards and found my mother's gaze again. "Murph?"_

" _Yeah?" she asked him._

" _Is... Is Iana... M-I-N-E?" he asked her then._

 _I swallowed again, saying nothing, despite the notion that I could spell._

 _Mama sighed from behind me. "Yeah, Mickey," she said. "She is."_

 _It was then that I looked from my mother, to Mickey, and back again, before I turned around completely to face her. "Mama?"_

" _Yeah, sweetheart?" she asked, looking down at me._

 _I felt my fingers tangling amongst themselves, something my mother often did when she was really nervous about something. "Why does Mickey have black hair like me?"_

 _She sighed, turning to look at Mickey. "Do you want to...?"_

 _Mickey thought it over for a moment before he nodded. "Sure," he replied, reaching out and gently touching my arm, and it was then that I turned around and looked at him. "Iana, I'm your father," he said quietly to me._

 _My eyes became wide then. "What?"_

" _Me and your mama made you a few years back, before she was married to your daddy," he explained, obviously treading carefully._

 _I thought it over for a moment. "You live far away from us..."_

 _Mickey nodded. "I know I do, Iana. And I'm sorry. But my life is complicated..."_

 _I felt my brow puckering. "Do you miss me?"_

" _Yeah, of course I miss you," Mickey said, smiling at me for the first time. "I'm sure you're a great kid, Iana. Really."_

 _I hesitated for a moment before putting my arms up and Mickey, albeit hesitantly, picked me up and held me. "Nice to meet you, Mickey," I said softly._

. . .

"Tell me why I let you talk me into shit like this," I muttered on the phone to Franny, as I did my best to pick an outfit for that evening.

"Wear that mini-skirt and a crop top!" Franny ordered from the other end of the call.

"Jesus," I muttered. "You're such a bad influence…"

"You know you love me."

"Yeah, maybe so," I replied, dragging a hand through my hair, which I'd brushed out before securing in my typical ponytail. "I'm throwing something on now. I'll meet you there in twenty, okay? Does that work for you?"

"Fine," Franny grumbled sarcastically. "Hurry up."

"See you soon," I said, cutting the call.

I slipped on a pair of black denim shorts, plus a black tank top, along with a pair of black ankle boots to top it all off. The finishing touch was the rhinestone-studded _I_ necklace that I secured around my neck, my signature piece of jewelry, before I put black mascara and eyeliner on, followed by my standard red lipstick, and then grabbed my phone and slipped it into my pocket, where my set of keys also were occupying. I trudged towards my bedroom window, opening it quickly and climbing down the ladder, leaving it open a crack so that I could easily get back inside later.

I trudged through the yard and towards the gate, letting myself out and making my way towards my car, getting inside and turning on some tunes. U2's _With or Without You_ pumped onto my radio, and I smiled at this loveliness of the song as I drove out into the setting sun. As I drove to Patsy's, I was relieved at the lack of traffic that Saturday night, and when I finally arrived, I saw that, somehow, Franny had managed to get some dark fabric to cover the long windows around the place, and knew that she must've cooked up something. Shaking my head, I parked and got out of my car, crossing towards the main door and letting myself in.

"Franny?" I called out, stepping inside and looking around the darkness. "Look, this isn't very funny. We get drunk every weekend, anyway. It's not like a different location would make much of a difference…"

Suddenly, the lights came on, momentarily blinding me for a moment or two, and suddenly I saw a bunch of people from school surrounding me, Franny front and center. It was then that a mighty shout of, "Surprise!" filled my ears, and I found myself screaming with joy at the notion of what Franny had done. Trouble be damned; it was my sixteenth birthday, and I was going to make the most of it.

"Franny!" I cried out, and gave her a hug, before I was passed around, hugging various members of the senior class, in a moment of glee. I came to a stop in front of the football captain, Andy Parker, then, one of the few guys in the senior class who hadn't managed to get his athletic hands on me. "Hey, Andy. Glad you could make it."

Andy looked me over. "Sixteen looks good on you, Iana."

I smiled at him. "Thanks," I said, before turning to the next person.

Franny secured her cell phone into the stereo system the diner had to offer, and soon her playlist was pumping throughout the joint. There were several kegs littered around the dining room, plus numerous bottles of Old Style covered the front counter. I made my way over, making a grab to one and popping off the cap, chugging it. I wanted to get good and blitzed that night, knowing that I was within my rights to do so.

It wasn't that I was a failure, but when you fail the eighth grade six times in one lifetime, the notion that you may not be the child prodigy your parents thought you were has the capability of weighing heavily on your mind. If I hadn't been so uppity towards authority, calling the subpar curriculum pure bullshit, then maybe, just maybe, I would've managed to get through the whole high school experience much sooner. But no; the damned principal had it out for me since day one, and it was all because I wouldn't suck his hairy, wrinkled dick.

"Great party, Iana," came a familiar voice about three hours into it.

Turning around, I saw Andy standing there, and I grinned at him. "I know what can make it a whole lot better," I replied. I wasn't even slurring my speech, or wobbling on my normally two left feet; no, I could hold my booze.

"Yeah?" Andy asked. "Like how?"

I mulled it over for a minute; Andy was dressed in his football uniform, probably for brownie points, and yet the notion that he had a cigarette behind wedged behind his perfect his ear was, at the time, sexy as hell. I scanned the party for a moment then, noticing that everyone else seemed to be occupied, and suddenly lowered my half-finished bottle of Old Style, my fourth since arriving at the diner, and gently pulled him by the collar towards me. "Come with me," I whispered into his ear, grinning up at him.

"Don't have to ask me twice!" he said, following me willingly to the back.

I took him to the locker room, always deserted this time of night; the back door was always locked, and if we were hidden behind one of the sets of lockers, we wouldn't be seen. Once we got there, I turned towards him and yanked his football jersey over his head; Andy chuckled at my eager behavior, and his hands descended to my jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them as quickly as he dared, while my hands worked on his football pants. Then, just as I managed to lower them, I yanked down his boxers, while he pulled down my panties effortlessly. I let out a yelp then as he lifted me up with his perfectly toned arms, and I wrapped my legs around his torso, allowing him easy access inside me.

"So glad you're not eighteen yet," I whispered.

"Still seventeen for six months," he replied, adjusting himself slightly. "I… I'm not hurting you, am I, Iana?"

 _Wow_ , _a football player with a heart of gold_ , I thought with a slight smirk. "No, I… You're not hurting me, Andy. I… I've done this… I mean, I'm not a…"

"It's okay," Andy said, his tone considerate. "I'm not either. I mean, I…"

"You don't have to tell me," I told him with a smile as I dug my heels into his perfect ass. "Just go harder, if you don't mind."

"I'm good with that," Andy replied.

It wasn't filled with passion; not in the slightest. I could tell from the get-go that I had more experience than Andy did. However, it wasn't an altogether unpleasant moment for me; at the same time, the notion that Andy seemed like the type to want to take me home to meet his parents afterwards was an automatic turn-off, for me, at least. When it was all over, I unhooked my legs from his torso quickly and effortlessly, yanking up my panties and shorts, and tugged down my shirt, as Andy had wanted to get better-acquainted with my breasts.

"So, can I call you sometime?"

 _Call me sometime_?! _What was this_?! I hesitated for a moment, knowing that I should've let him know before we hooked up that this wasn't a gateway into dating me. However, before I could open my mouth and explain it to him, the all-too-familiar wail of police sirens outside the restaurant stopped me, causing my blood to run cold. Before I could even get a word in, Andy had yanked his clothes into place and had taken off out of the back door, without urging me to follow him, or looking back.

"Fucking pussy," I muttered to myself with disgust, before peeking out into the restaurant area, knowing that I shouldn't leave Franny behind. At eighteen, she was libel to be tried as an adult, and I knew that Aunt Debbie would kill me for leaving her there, even though this entire party had been her idea. As I inched towards the doorway leading out into the restaurant, I didn't see Franny anywhere, and knew then that she had likely escaped from a back window somewhere. I knew I'd better make a run for it, and would've, had a cop not tackled me. "Fucking hell!" I cried out then, as the man pinned me down, and, even though I struggled, I knew that I should remain calm, but it was pretty difficult to do. "Let me the fuck go!" I yelled at him. "That fucking hurts!"

"Not on your life, missy," the officer replied, hauling me to my feet and bringing me towards the front door of Patsy's. "You reek of booze. How old are you, anyway?"

I crossed my arms, thus allowing my breasts to become even more exposed by the dangerously low neckline of my tank top. "I'm sixteen," I replied.

He rolled his eyes. "Underage drinking, trespassing…"

"I wasn't trespassing!" I shot back. "My mom owns this place!"

"Oh, yeah?" the officer said, dragging me towards his police car. "What's your name then, little girl?" he asked.

"Iana," I replied. "Iana Gallagher-Blomqvist."

"Got any proof of that?"

I scoffed. "If you would let me go, my ID is in my pocket."

"Frieda!" the officer called, and I turned to see a female officer writing up a report. "Come over here and pat down this girl, please."

Frieda scoffed. "Jesus, Rudy, you're probably bruising here—go easy on the kid, will ya?" she said, her voice impatient. She crossed over to us, shoving her paperwork into Rudy's arms, and patted me down quickly. "Cell phone, keys, and a wallet," she said. "Do you have any weapons on you?"

I scoffed. "No. They're at home, where they belong."

Frieda didn't ask if I was kidding or not—I wasn't, but she didn't have to know that. She went into my wallet then and found my ID, and nodded to herself. "It's not counterfeit," she assured Rudy, and handed it over before taking her paperwork back and stepping away.

"It's your sixteenth birthday?"

I looked up at Rudy, giving him a loathsome stare. "Yeah."

"So, your mom owns this place?"

"Yeah, she's Murphy Gallagher-Blomqvist," I replied, hating the sensation of his hand gripping my shoulder, effectively holding me there.

"Where does the 'Blomqvist' come from?"

"My dad, Nicholas Blomqvist," I replied in a huff.

"Nicholas Blomqvist, one of the top lawyers in the Chicago area, is your dad?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering if this had to do with the undercover assignment that my dad had been involved in, where he took down a good half-dozen crooked cops. "Yeah. So?" I demanded, my tone defiant.

"No, it's just…"

"What?" I demanded, my voice angry.

"You don't look a thing like him, that's all…"

"Fucking Christ," I muttered to myself, crossing my arms. "Didn't know we were playing Twenty Questions tonight… That's because he's not my biological father."

"Oh. Well, then, who is?"

I gritted my teeth. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Look, kid, it'd go a whole lot better for you if you were just honest with me."

"Fine," I said, looking away from him. "Mickey Milkovich is my biological father. You happy now, Officer Asshat?!"

"That's it—you just earned yourself a trip Downtown," he said, shoving my head downwards and hauling me into the back of his car.

. . .

"Look, Iana… I don't mind, really. But why'd you call me?"

I sighed, leaning back against my passenger seat. "Look, Pops, if you want me to pay you back for bailing me out…"

"No, kid, it's all good," he replied, shaking his head.

I swallowed. "Thanks for picking up my car from the diner."

"No problem."

I bit my lip, hunching my shoulders. "You tell Mom and Dad?"

He drummed his hands on the steering wheel for a moment as we waited for a red light to finally make up its mind to change. "I did."

"Jesus, Pops! They'll never let me leave the house again—"

"Iana, they're fucking worried about you!" he thundered back.

I scoffed. "Worried? About me?"

"Yeah. Your mom says you've barely talked to her in the last four years…"

I shrugged. "She wouldn't understand…"

"Maybe if you talked to her, she would."

"Yeah?" I asked. "You think so?"

Pops nodded. "Worth a shot."

We drove the rest of the way in silence, and Pops handed me my set of keys back as we got out of the car. I locked it automatically, and hesitated for a moment before I stepped towards him and allowed myself to hug him. "Hopefully, if I'm not given twenty-to-life in there, I'll see you tomorrow."

"You'll see me tomorrow, don't worry," he replied. "Love you, kid."

"Yeah, love you, too, Pops," I replied. I turned around then and headed inside, hesitating for a moment in the doorway of the living room as I shut the door behind me. "Hey, guys," I said, and, for a moment, I remembered being a small child again.

"Hey, Iana," Dad replied, getting to his feet. He briefly kissed me on the forehead and squeezed my shoulders. "You talk to your mom. I'll see you in the morning. Love you."

"Love you, too, Dad," I said, hesitating until he headed up the stairs, before I turned and looked at my mother. "Pops said we should talk…"

Mom nodded. "We should."

I stepped inside the living room and sat beside her on the couch, kicking off my ankle boots. "I don't really know what to say right now."

She sighed. "You're just… I don't know, Iana. So different than I ever was…"

I nodded. "I know. I failed the eighth grade six times. Probably where my troubles all started, huh?" I joked.

"You suddenly passed on the sixth try, and I never got why."

I bit my lip. "New principal."

She blinked. "What?"

I dragged my hand over my face as I leaned back on the couch. "Mom, the fucking old principal told me that he'd keep failing me unless I sucked his dick."

Mom was suddenly rigid next to me. "What the fuck, Iana?" she whispered. "Why didn't you ever say anything to me?"

"Because I wanted to handle it on my own, and I did. I sent the tapes anonymously to the authorities, with Franny's help to obliterate my face, and that's why the principal was fired and we got a new one."

"Jesus," she whispered. "Is that all?"

I shook my head. "No, that's not all."

"Try me."

"I drink, smoke, and will pretty much have sex with anyone," I replied.

She raised an eyebrow. "Anyone?"

"If I like their personalities enough," I replied, shrugging. "I don't know."

She smiled. "Sounds like me."

I made a noise of surprise. "Wait. You've had sex with a…?"

"One," she replied. "Her name was Jessica."

"Did you love her?"

She nodded. "I did, yeah."

"Wow," I replied, shaking my head. "That's just...wow."

"When did you…?"

"Lose my virginity?" I asked, and laughed aloud at her question. "Two years ago. I was fourteen when it happened. How old were you?"

"Sixteen," she replied. "But I didn't have sex with a guy until...Mickey," she said, and I could tell she was leaving something out, but I didn't want to press her. "But sweetie, just tell me something… You're set to graduate next month, right?"

I laughed. "Yeah, Mom. My mental illnesses, promiscuity, and social smoking and drinking haven't hindered that."

Suddenly, my mother looked shocked again. "Mental illness?"

"Yeah, I've been seeing a therapist since I was thirteen," I replied, "after we got that douchebag principal fired."

"Have you been diagnosed?"

"Yeah," I replied.

"Is it...a formal diagnosis?"

"Yeah, Mom, it's a formal diagnosis."

"Are you on medication?"

"Yeah, I'm on medication."

"You always take it?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I take the damn pills, Mom."

"What are you on?"

I sighed, knowing I had to tell her. "Lithium," I replied.

Her eyes widened. "But, Iana…"

"What?" I asked.

"Lithium is usually prescribed for bipolar disorder…"

I swallowed then, knowing that the time was now. "I know, Mom," I replied, my breath catching in my throat as I struggled to continue. "I'm bipolar."


	2. Highs and Lows

Chapter Two: Highs and Lows

I was relieved that Dad was able to get the trespassing charges leveled against me and Franny dropped, but I got quite a talking-to from both of them in regards to my drinking. I pretended to listen, nodding my head at the potential dangers of drinking underage, while their words of concern went in one ear and out the other. I did not have a problem, I realized that, and the sooner the two of them could get with the program, the better.

It was the notion that my mother wanted to get all in-depth and compassionate with me all of a sudden that really turned me off. Ever since Dad had gotten back and she'd kicked Tommy to the curb, literally, I'd managed to hold her at arm's-length. She'd given me more details about what had happened with him over the years, and why she had had to do what she did, in getting us to live with Uncle Ian. I agreed with her, ultimately, and supported her reasoning, and yet, the thought of getting close to someone, anyone, again was foreign to me. I was close to Uncle Ian, and to Pops, but that's where I drew the line at closeness.

"You can't keep pushing her away," Uncle Ian told me as we sat in the living room of the house, where I sat between him and Pops on the couch in the living room. "I tried to push this one away, and look what happened…"

"Hey, you were my type," Pops shot back with a grin at Uncle Ian. "Your disgusting son of a cunt half-sister tried to get in the middle, though…"

"Mick," Uncle Ian said warningly.

"Oh, you mean Sammi?" I asked, my voice appropriately contorting into one of disdain. "Call her that, for all I care."

"Don't women find it insulting?" Uncle Ian wanted to know.

I laughed aloud. "Not when it's deserved, which it is. Too bad Mom didn't kill her," I muttered, reaching out towards the coffee table and grabbing my bottle of beer. "That gross, disgusting, poorly-patterned rug and a ceremonial dumping at the side of the road was way too good for her in my book…"

Pops laughed at that, his eyes shining. "If it weren't for the high-class words, you'd sound like a Milkovich, Iana."

I made a face at him, my mouth full of beer, and hastily swallowed it before returning my bottle back onto the table. "I can sound Milkovich if I want," I replied.

"Careful, Mick, she'll win," Uncle Ian warned.

"Besides, I am a fucking Milkovich, Pops; don't let the moniker of Blomqvist fool you," I replied, getting to my feet. "Of course," I went on, putting my hands on my hips, "Grandpa Terry wouldn't be pleased if he found out that I had girls in my bed as well as guys…"

Pops made a face. "No idea."

"The evil, psychotic prick would probably think it's hot," Uncle Ian muttered, reaching out and attempting to take my beer bottle.

Immediately, I reached out then, grabbing back the beer bottle as quickly as I dared and chugged the rest of it, staring at them both as I lowered it slowly. When they stared at me then, eyes wide and mouths open, something erupted within me as a tremor filled my body. "The fuck are you looking at?!" I demanded.

Pops immediately turned and regarded Uncle Ian then, and shook his head. "Swear to god, she looks like a fucking twin of Mandy…"

"Mandy?!" I demanded, looking from one to the other. "Who the fuck is Mandy?"

"Your aunt," Uncle Ian replied, his tone hesitant, almost as if he wasn't sure he was at liberty to share this information with me.

I raised my eyebrows. "I've got another one? Not just Fiona and Debs? Or that cunt Sammi that I don't even count?"

Pops smirked. "Yeah, you've got another aunt," he replied.

"Jeez," I muttered, swirling the last of my beer in its bottle as I leaned up against the mantle. "I guess I just thought that you were an only child, Pops…"

"One of six, thank you very much," Pops put in.

I drag my hand over my face then, before lifting the bottle to my lips and finishing it, putting on a pout for a brief moment before heading back to the kitchen. I feel Uncle Ian and Pop's eyes on my back, but, thankfully, they say nothing as I toss away my empty bottle and retrieve a second one from the fridge. "The thought of actually having kids…" I shuddered for a moment then as pure revolution entered my subconscious. "Little sacks of water just depending on you for every little thing… No, thank you," I muttered, pulling off the bottle cap and tossing it into the trash and taking a deep gulp of the beer. "Not happening."

"Your mom mentioned your conversation," Uncle Ian said quietly as I stepped back into the living room from the kitchen and returned to the couch.

"Yeah?" I asked. "Did she mention that she kind of tore me a new one for getting arrested, and told me off for getting Pops to bail me out afterwards?"

Pops smirked. "No, your mom didn't mention that…"

I shook my head, taking another sip of my beer. "Of course not," I muttered, leaning my head back onto the back of the couch.

"How'd the talk go?" Uncle Ian asked.

I shrugged. "What's there to say? After we had our mother/daughter, heart-to-heart, bonding moment of the century, it was back to the way it always was. Fighting about my way of life and about how I'm supposedly a total failure…"

"She didn't call you a failure," Pops said quickly.

I scoffed. "Not in so many words…"

"She'd never call you a failure," Uncle Ian assured me. "I know my sister. She can be a pain in the ass sometimes, of course…"

"Total pain in the ass," Pops put in.

"But I love her," Uncle Ian continued. "She'd never say anything like that. Trust us."

I pursed my lips. "I don't know. Maybe she's let down by the fact that her supposedly genius daughter failed the eighth grade six times…"

"Three times."

I turned and looked over at Pops. "What?"

"You failed the eighth grade three times," he said patiently. "As someone who thought high school was a total shit show, I'd know how many times you failed a grade. Plus, you're my kid, so there's that…"

I scoffed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," I muttered, hunching my shoulders slightly. I bit my lip then, mulling over my next question in my mind. "Where'd Mandy get to?" I asked, my tone tentative. "I mean, she take off or something?"

"To Indiana, for a while," Uncle Ian said quietly.

"With her bastard ex-boyfriend," Pops said, cracking his knuckles immediately, almost as if he was looking for a challenge.

I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"

Pops dragged a hand over his face for a moment, before he reached out and took my beer; he sipped it for a moment before he reluctantly allowed himself to hand it back to me. "Yeah. She got out of that situation, though."

"Yeah?" I asked. "Like how?"

"Sex work," Uncle Ian replied, and when I turned to look at him, I could tell by his facial expression and tone that he didn't really approve of it.

"Moved back here and killed a John of hers…"

Immediately, I turned back to look at Pops. "Jesus! They lock her up for that shit?!"

"Fuck no," Pops said, shaking his head.

"I may have helped her out," Uncle Ian said quietly. "I mean, I got her to fabricate the story slightly so that she got off…"

"Family is everything," I replied.

"I wasn't really with Mickey at the time…"

"Wasn't with me?! You fucking broke up with me!"

"Hey, I didn't realize how important my medication was at the time," Uncle Ian put in. "Had I known then what I know now, that living without you is fucking impossible, then I wouldn't have done that…"

"Really?" Pops asked.

Uncle Ian nodded. "Really."

"Okay," I said, getting to my feet and finishing my beer, before placing the empty bottle onto the coffee table. "I'm going to leave before you two eye fuck each other…" I peeked behind me then as I moved towards the front door. "And you've already started. Great," I muttered, quickly leaving the living room. "Love you guys. See you soon," I said, forcing myself to keep my tone in check as I walked out of the house.

I made my way across the street, knowing that Clayton and Fionn had their Young Architect's Union meeting that day, and that Carla was at her fencing class, and Charlie was over at Grandma Allie's that day. With Mom working at the diner until late and Dad likely going to the firm for the day, I found the prospect of going back to the empty house was not a pleasant one. I also knew that Franny was spending the day with Ezra, as she didn't get very much time with him as it was, so my best friend was definitely out. I sighed for a moment, weighing my keys in my hand for a moment before I trudged across the street and towards my car, letting myself inside and slamming the door behind me. I took my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and examined it, finding no incoming calls or texts. I bit down on my lower lip then, pulling up my favorite search engine and keying in _Mandy Milkovich_ , _Chicago_ , into it, hoping for a result which would lead me to my previously unknown aunt.

To my surprise, I found an address for her, about ten or fifteen minutes away from the neighborhood, and I found my heart thudding in my chest. There was no picture provided, but she was definitely the right age; the same age as my mother and Ian. I quickly copied the address into my GPS system and buckled myself in, sticking my keys into the ignition and pulling out of my space in front of the house. I went down the street then, trying to keep my heartbeat in check, knowing that I had to keep cool about this entire situation. Mandy may or may not even be home, or the notion that she could potentially not want to see me, or slam the door on my face was another possibility. Shrugging off the fear that threatened to take over my subconscious completely, I got to the first traffic light and pulled to a stop as it turned red, knowing that I had to prepare myself for any possible outcome.

I pulled up to a swanky-looking, ten-floor apartment building about twelve minutes later, and pulled around the block, finding a suitable parking space. Getting out of the car, I locked it up and made my way to the front of the building which, thankfully, let me in automatically. The desk in the front was empty, and I shrugged it off as I made my way over to the elevators. I remembered that her address was 757, meaning that she was on the seventh floor, so I pressed the 'up' button, followed by the 'seven' button when I'd gotten inside. I waited anxiously for the doors to close and, once the did, felt trepidation hit me again like a ton of bricks as I was jolted upwards, towards my final destination.

The elevator doors quickly dinged open, and I very nearly stumbled out into the hallway, and quickly managed to figure out which direction I had to go in. I went to the right, following the trail of odd numbers on the doors as I walked, each door a pale green color, outfitted with a trio of gold numbers. I reached the 750's within a couple of minutes, my breathing suddenly becoming heavy as I fully realized what I was doing. An hour ago, I didn't even know that I had any aunts or uncles on my biological father's side of the family; now, I was a mere yards from meeting my aunt officially, unannounced.

I came to a stop directly in front of apartment 757, hesitating in front of the door for a moment, before I curled my hand into a fist and lifted it up to the door. I knocked three times, hoping that the impact of my fist was loud enough, and rolled back on my heels as I lowered my hand and waited for the door to open. I heard footsteps from the other side of the door a handful of seconds later, and a brief moment of hesitation, presumably as the occupant looked through the spyhole to see who was coming to call. Then, half a second later, the door came unlocked and there was a slight squeak from the hinges as the door opened, and, standing there, was a woman, similar to me in height, with black hair and pale eyes, just like Pops, although she looked as if she'd seen a ghost as she stared at me.

"Mandy?" I asked then, my voice tentative. "Mandy Milkovich?"

Mandy crossed her arms. "Who's asking?"

"I'm Iana Gallagher-Blomqvist," I said, and she straightened slightly as I said my name.

"You're a Gallagher?"

"Well, half," I replied. "My mom's a Gallagher."

Mandy nodded. "Fiona or Debbie? I heard Debbie had a kid…" She hesitated for a moment then as she looked me over. "You have Fiona's eyes…"

I shook my head at her. "No, my mom's name is Murphy," I replied carefully. "She was adopted at three-months-old and didn't find the Gallagher's until she was twenty-one, and then that's when I decided to show up…"

Mandy sighed. "Okay…?"

"Murphy's, my mom, is Ian's twin," I said quickly, and Mandy's eyes looked shocked then, and I knew then that she'd been close to my uncle. "Hence my first name," I went on, shrugging my shoulders and laughing nervously at my mother's idea of a halfway-decent first name for her firstborn child. "And then there's the matter of my biological father…"

"Biological?" she asked, looking confused. "That Blomqvist guy isn't your dad?"

"Not by blood; he adopted me when I was three-years-old," I explained to her, not wanting to overhaul her with information too quickly. "My biological father… It's Mickey," I said, and Mandy looked as if she could fall over. "I'm your niece."

Mandy looked as if she had a million questions, but the first one that popped out of her mouth was completely unexpected. "How'd you find me?"

"Pops and Uncle Ian told me about you," I replied. "And then I may have gone online and looked you up…"

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen," I replied. "I'm set to graduate at the end of the month."

"How's…Lip?" she asked then, and her voice shook a little, and I saw that there was love in her eyes for my mother's oldest brother. "He married? Kids?"

I shook my head. "Not married. No kids."

"What about the rest of the Gallagher's?"

"Aunt Fiona's in New York, married, two kids, a boy and a girl," I replied. "Aunt Debbie just had my cousin, Franny, who's also my best friend. Then Uncle Carl finally managed to free himself from any implication that he'd had his wife murdered; long story, really," I said to Mandy's questioning look. "But he's married and they've got three boys, all army-bound, just like their dad. And then Uncle Liam is married to his work, so not much time for that, although he does date now and again…"

Mandy hesitated for a moment, before she stood back slightly, gesturing to me that I should go inside her apartment. "So your mom hooked up with my brother, huh?" she asked, closing the door behind her.

I nodded. "Yeah," I replied. "It was in Mexico, back when Pops was still on the run. There was tequila involved, if I remember correctly," I said, making my way into the living room, where Mandy indicated that I should sit on the modern couch, and I did so, with her perching on the other end of that piece of furniture.

"You call him 'Pops'…"

I smiled. "Yeah. My dad, my mother's husband, when he adopted me…" I shrugged. "He's always been a dad to me. Nice guy."

"You see my brother and Ian a lot?"

"We live across the street," I replied. "So, yeah."

Mandy hesitated for another moment before she leaned forward ever so slightly. "Look, if you want to ask me anything…"

"Yeah, I'll ask," I said, and Mandy gave a slight nod, granting me permission. "You ever get over my Uncle Lip?"

Mandy drew back then, her pale eyes looking regretful. She shrugged then, her shoulders thin, almost as if she'd lived a hard life. "Not really," she said at last. "Any more questions?"

I bit my lip then, hesitant, but knowing I had to get to the bottom of this. "Terry ever go after you?" I asked her then, my voice shaking slightly.

Mandy's eyes snapped to mine. "The fuck are you asking?"

"Did your dad ever go after you?"

"Why?" she asked. "He go after you?"

I sighed. "Yeah," I replied. "Shoved him off me real good after he got a look at me. I think he got an idea of who I was…"

"You're lucky, then," Mandy replied.

I blinked. "Lucky? How?"

"When he'd get drunk, he'd think I was my mom," Mandy said quietly.

I felt my blood run cold. "What are you saying?"

Mandy looked unsure if she should continue or not, but something passed between us then, and I knew she knew that I could handle it. "He'd have sex with me," she replied, looking away from me after a moment; it didn't make me doubt her honesty, not for a minute; I could literally feel the shame emanating from within her.

"What happened?"

"Knocked me up," she said. "Ian rallied people together at The Alibi, raising funds for me to get rid of it…"

I reached out then, taking her hand then, and her eyes locked to mine then, shock radiating from her expression. "I'm sorry," I said.

Mandy hesitated yet again, wondering just how carefully she had to tread around me, her newfound niece. "Did… Have you ever been…?"

I sighed, remembering telling Pops and Uncle Ian about the night it happened, and it took all I had to restrain them from leaving the house with the baseball bat. "When I was in middle school, the principal took a…special interest in me," I said quietly.

Mandy nodded stiffly. "What'd he do?"

"Threaten me, at first," I said. "He'd call me to his office for minor infractions, and it got to the point where he said he couldn't cover for me anymore."

"That son of a bitch," Mandy replied.

I scoffed. "No kidding," I said. "After that, it was groping, and then he said that he wanted me to suck him off."

"Gross."

I shuddered. "You're not kidding," I told her. "Franny and I later managed to hide cameras in the office, and got him on tape threatening me."

"What'd he say?"

"Said he wouldn't let me graduate unless I sucked his dick," I replied matter-of-factly. "I never gave into him. No matter what he said, or tried to do, I wouldn't allow my resolve to weaken, and did all I could to distract him, or convince him otherwise…"

"He get fired?"

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, Franny and I turned in the footage to the cops…"

"So, then it was over?"

"You'd think so," I said. "I was hanging out with my mom at her diner, and she left to go pick up some more supplies. I was cleaning up in the main restaurant, and then the son of a bitch showed up and confronted me."

"He didn't get jail time?"

I shook my head. "No," I told her. "I never came forward with who I was. Franny and I blurred out my face on the tapes, and managed to distort my voice slightly…"

"What happened, Iana?"

"Well, he'd been stripped of his job title, without severance pay, and had lost all respect in the teaching community," I replied bitterly. "His wife left him, and his kids wouldn't speak to him after it all came out. His wife got the house, so he was living with his sketchy brother in a crappy apartment, and he had nothing. Just a few hundred bucks in savings…"

"Iana?"

I was suddenly pulled from where I was staring at Mandy's intricately-patterned rug beneath her glass coffee table, and turned to look at her. "Yeah?"

"What'd he do to you?"

I felt my mouth falling open then, just as I vowed for the tears not to fall.

. . .

 _It was the first time that Mom had allowed me to watch over the diner by myself; Principal Monroe had been officially fired for three and half weeks, and it was in the middle of summer vacation, and I was free. Even though the diner was closed early that evening, since it was a Sunday, I was tasked with wiping down each table, menu, and booth. I didn't mind; my mom paid me five bucks per booth, and three for every menu. It kept my mind off the massive secret I was carrying about Principal McGee, which weighed heavily on my mind as the weeks had gone by that summer. There were several times that I tried to tell my mom, but the blanket of self-doubt had wrapped itself around me successfully, rendering me silent to the subject._

 _Once I'd finished wiping down the final booth, I moved to the back, where all the dirty rags were kept, and placed it into the bucket by the rear exit. Once Mom had locked up the diner for the night, the laundry service arrived, washing the rags, and returning them to the diner first thing Monday morning. I heard the front door of the diner opening as I turned around to head towards my mom's office, where she always instructed me to wait as soon as any task was done. I was about to call out to her, feeling that for sure it was her coming back from her late errand, letting her know I'd grab our things so that we could be on our way, and quickly. However, as I passed by the doorway, I felt myself immediately stopping in my tracks when I saw Principal Monroe standing there._

 _His eyes were flat-black then as he looked me over, the rage bubbling on his skin. He said nothing then, and stalked towards me, grabbing me roughly by the arm so that I cried out in a combination of shock and fear. He narrowed his eyes at me, before smacking me full across the face with his free hand, and yanked me back towards the rear entrance of the diner, where the employee lockers were. He ignored the tremors of fear which seemed to drip off my skin, and shoved me up against the wall, my face hitting it, and yanked down my denim shorts._

" _No…" I whispered then, my voice trembling._

 _I was rewarded with Principal Monroe's rough hand on the back of my head, forcing my face deeper into the wall, if such a thing were possible, my cries becoming muffled as I heard him unzipping his pants. I shut my eyes then, the sobs coming out of me then, still muffled against the hard surface of the wall, as he did what he did. Once he finished, he yanked me away from the wall then, holding me aloft and glaring down at me, all the while I shook within his grasp. He shook his head at me then, dropping me unceremoniously on the ground before he turned away from me. I listened to his footsteps as he departed the diner, my hands shaking then as I yanked up my shorts, bracing myself up against the wall. I lowered my eyes then, seeing a small pool of blood on the floor, pure revulsion filling my senses then as I made a grab for a rag, cleaning it up, and stuffing it into the bottom of the barrell…_

. . .

"Iana?"

I raised my eyes to Mandy's then. "Yeah?"

"How'd you explain the blood? Someone had to find it…"

I shrugged. "It was a diner."

Mandy blinked. "What?"

"We're known for pies and burgers," I replied. "Could've been a cheap cut of meat that bled everywhere for all they knew…"

"You ever tell anyone?"

"Pops and Uncle Ian," I said quietly.

"What'd they do?"

"Managed to hold them off for a night, from beating him with a baseball bat," I said, shrugging ever so slightly. "But then they snuck out the next night, almost killed him."

"How didn't they get arrested?"

"Simple," I replied, locking my eyes with hers again. "I lied to the police, told them that Pops and Uncle Ian were with me for the entire night, or in the area. They left their phones with me, put them in my backpack, so that if the cops tried to go through them, they'd be in the area of the house, so…"

"You ever regret it?"

"Lying to the cops? Fuck no."

"I mean not coming forward with the information," Mandy replied. "I mean, what if he ended up doing it to someone else?"

I shook my head. "Not possible."

"Why not?"

"He was brain dead for the first three months after Pops and Uncle Ian attacked him, and he woke up paralyzed from the neck down," I said. "Then he offed himself a year later. He was in therapy for the duration of his life, closely monitored in a hospital. He never went near a minor again."

"You don't love many people, do you, Iana?"

I smirked. "How'd you figure that one out?"

Mandy chuckled. "You're half-Milkovich."

I shrugged. "Then there's the trust issues…"

Mandy nodded then, allowing the statement to hang in the air for a moment before she spoke up again. "Have any plans after graduation?"

"Waiting to hear back from Northwestern," I replied. "Don't wanna go too far…"

"Pick a major yet?"

"Thinking restaurant management, or somewhere along those lines," I replied. "I want to take over the diner from my mom…"

"And kids?" she asked. "Family?"

I shook my head. "Neither."

She blinked. "You're not dating anyone?"

I scoffed. "I don't date. I fuck indiscriminately for the fun of it."

"So, no boyfriends, then?"

I laughed aloud then. "I've been fucking men and women since I was fourteen," I told her. "I may not discriminate, but I'm not the settling down type."

Mandy looked concerned then at my words. "You're hurting."

I shook my head at her. "No, not hurting. I see a therapist once a week for my mental illness, so it's not like I'm not dealing with everything…"

Mandy raised her eyebrows. "Mental…?"

"I'm bipolar," I informed her, shrugging. "I take medication for it, never miss a pill. I make straight A's in high school, and I'm graduating a year early. I'm waiting on an acceptance from a good university, and all I want to do is live my life without being tied to anyone. I love my family but I don't want to owe anyone a thing…"

"Iana?"

I sighed, looking back up at her again. "Yeah, Mandy?"

"I'm sorry, just a casual observation here…"

I nodded. "Shoot."

"Well, this might just be me talking…"

I raised my eyebrows. "What?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I just don't think you've allowed yourself to go through the grieving process to the best of your ability…"

I smiled at her. "Drinking, smoking, fucking, and working is how I deal with it," I replied. "And working can be at the diner or on my bipolar disorder."

"You actually work at the place where you were raped?"

"I've fucked in that room several times since then," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Not like it bothers me anymore…"

Mandy sighed, obviously knowing she wasn't going to get through to me. "Okay, Iana. I mean, obviously you know yourself the best…"

I peeked at my phone then, seeing that it was close to five, and knew I had to get back to the house to start on dinner.

"Running late?"

"Have to make dinner," I replied.

"Got it," Mandy said, getting to her feet. "Wouldn't want to keep you."

"Thanks," I said, and followed her towards her front door. "Listen…"

"Yeah?" she asked, turning around.

"My graduation is in about two weeks. Would you maybe want to come?"

Mandy smiled. "I'd love to come, Iana."

I smiled back at her. "Great," I replied.

Hesitating for a moment, we hugged one another, before Mandy opened her front door and let me out into the hallway. She watched as I walked in the opposite direction, getting to the elevator and pushing the 'down' button to get back to the main floor. I raised my hand to her then, as the doors opened, and she did the same, just before I stepped inside. I pressed the button for the lobby, waiting for the doors to close, and saw a text from my mom, reminding me what we had in the fridge that night for dinner options. I texted her back, letting her know I was planning on throwing together some chicken and pasta dish; she replied, letting me know that Grandma Allie would be dropping off Charlie at home within a half an hour, so I'd need to watch him while I cooked dinner.

I got out of the elevator and into the lobby, walking past the front desk and outside into the mild summer day. Making my way around the corner, I got into my car and automatically locked the doors behind me. I leaned against my seat for the moment, remembering when Pops and Uncle Ian had returned home that night…

" _What the fuck did you two do?!" I demanded, my voice elevated several octaves, shaking nearly as badly as I'd done when Principal Monroe had…_

" _Took care of some business," Pops replied._

 _I shook my head. "What were you thinking?!"_

" _Jesus, Iana, we did it for you," Uncle Ian replied._

" _All that blood," I whispered, backing up against the wall, my voice trembling as I looked them over from head to toe._

" _Nobody touches my daughter and gets away with it," Pops informed me._

 _I sighed. "Make a choice, here and now."_

 _Uncle Ian blinked. "Excuse me?"_

" _We either need to bleach your clothes or burn them," I whispered, straightening up then as I felt my voice hardening._

 _Pops looked amazed. "What?"_

 _I turned and looked over at him. "With your record, Pops, no way in hell they'll ever let you see the light of day again if they figure out what you guys did," I told him, my voice firm. "Nobody takes my dad away from me. I didn't even know if I'd ever see you again, after that time in Mexico, but now that you're here, you're not going anywhere…"_

" _Jesus," Uncle Ian whispered._

" _You out of your mind?" Pops asked. "If you get involved…"_

" _I don't give a fuck," I replied. "I'm always out of my mind. You know that," I said, smiling at the both of them. "I'm half-Gallagher, half-Milkovich. Had to happen sometime."_


	3. Suddenly, This Summer

Chapter Three: Suddenly, This Summer

I trekked the hallways of my high school, a bittersweet feeling flowing through me as I considered all the memories that coursed through my mind. Sure, I could've gone to yet another private school, but since I'd had such a negative experience with my middle school, I'd decided to go public for high school. In so doing, I ended up at the same institution as my fellow Gallagher and Milkovich family members had gone to. I laughed as I walked by the unappealing blue lockers, and considered that Pops might've shoved some kids inside them.

"Classic Pops," I muttered to myself.

The notion that I still had a study hall period to do whatever I liked on the final day of school seemed to be a moot point now as I headed outside, towards the track. I'd never been interested in sports, or gym, but had managed to somehow channel the negative energy into these pastimes into a good grade. I looked down, seeing the cheerleaders practicing their cheering for the final football game of the season or something, as well as the team itself running drills. Then there was the track team, running laps, and I rolled my eyes at the very institution of it all as I perched on the edge of the bleachers…

" _Don't forget to go under the bleachers."_

 _I raised an eyebrow at Uncle Ian, reaching out and taking his cigarette away from him and puffing on it myself. "The bleachers? Why would I want to go there?"_

" _It's our spot," Pops replied, sharing a look with Uncle Ian._

 _I laughed aloud then, quickly disengaging the cigarette from between my lips so as not to waste any of the precious tobacco. "Wait. Are you two fucking with me?"_

 _Uncle Ian shook his head. "No, Iana, we're not fucking with you."_

" _Go and check for yourself before you're outta that place forever," Pops said, reaching out and taking the cigarette away from me. "Won't hurt to look."_

I looked around to make sure nobody was there to tell me not to, or at least advise me against it, before I climbed down from the bleachers and made my way to the end of them. Steel metal bars were surrounding the edges of them, obviously in an attempt to keep students out of there, but I rolled my eyes to the rules. Grabbing ahold of them, I hoisted myself between them and looked around, making my way underneath them completely. I trekked to the center of that place, and saw names scratched into the silver paint in black marker; all of the Gallagher kids had put their names down, and I was pleased to see that Pops' and Uncle Ian's were intertwined, connected forever via their high school spot. I reached into my back pocket then, seeing that my mother had taken it upon herself to put her name down as well, and wrote my name underneath her name, right below where she had put hers, next to Uncle Ian's.

"Guess it's a right of passage or something," I muttered to myself.

 _Miranda Hayworth had been a senior when I was a sophomore, and had been head cheerleader and senior class president. Suffice it to say, her school record was clean, but when it came right down to it, she was desperate to escape from underneath the white bread spotlight. I was waiting for Franny to finish up track practice one day, just keeping my nose in a book, when Miranda told the fellow cheerleaders that practice was over for the day. I barely noticed; cheerleading was so not my thing._

" _Gallagher!"_

 _Given that the surname was infamous in South Side, it was a moniker I went by within the public school system, one that fit me like a glove. Immediately, my hackles came up then as I slammed my book shut, on the offensive, ready and waiting for a fight if one presented itself. I raised my eyebrows slightly when I noticed Miranda standing there, still in her cheerleading uniform, at the base of the bleachers. "How can I help you, Hayworth?" I asked her._

" _Can we talk?" she asked, obviously trying to appear tougher than she was, but the dead giveaway was her twisting a lock of her long, dark brown hair around her perfectly-manicured index finger._

 _I sighed, checking my phone; Franny's practice was set for another half an hour, so obviously, I had some time on my hands. "Come on," I said, knowing that Miranda wouldn't want to be seen with some nobody sophomore, and slipped both my phone and book into my backpack before putting it over one shoulder. I got to my feet and made my way down the bleachers, before I went through the metal rods beneath and stood below. I waited for Miranda to arrive, and tried to force myself not to smirk at her tentative steps as she hesitated before me. "What's going on with you?" I asked. "You need me to get some test answers or something?"_

 _Immediately, Miranda shook her head. "No. Nothing like that."_

 _I hunched my shoulders then, obviously at a loss for what Miranda wanted. "Okay, well, you may not think of me as somebody important, Hayworth, but I have a life, too. I have a job to do and grades to make, so if you don't have a point, then I have better things to do…"_

" _It's Rex," Miranda said quickly, the two words bursting out of her._

 _Immediately, I raised my eyebrows, wondering what problem good old boy Rex Jackson—the football captain and Miranda's steady boyfriend—could possibly have, given that he made good grades and likely wasn't obligated to go to college on just a football scholarship. "Okay, so it's boyfriend problems," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Talk."_

 _Miranda bit her lip, her signature superstay red shiny lip gloss always looking sexy as hell. "I mean, we've been dating for over two years…"_

 _I rolled my eyes. "Okay. So you've fucked your boyfriend, and you don't want to be labeled as a 'slut', is that it?"_

 _Miranda shook her head at me, and I immediately cut myself off. "No, it's not that, it…" She broke off then, shuffling from foot to foot. "It's the fact that he can't make me…"_

 _I scoffed then, shaking my head. "Oh, for the love of god, Miranda," I said. "Jesus. Just say that he can't make you come. It's not a bad thing to admit. I mean, admittedly, it fucking sucks that it's been over two years and you can't get off with him, but still…"_

 _Miranda sighed. "Well, I just didn't know who else to talk to…"_

" _You barely talk to me as it is," I replied. "I mean, you were my upperclassman buddy when I started at this school. But, other than a few obligatory conversations, you don't know that much about me, really…"_

" _I know you fuck," Miranda said, cutting me off, and I raised my eyebrows, knowing then that my enterprise of fucking without a relationship had gotten around to the popular crowd. "I mean, I've heard things…"_

 _I shrugged my shoulders. "Yeah, I mean, free country and all… So, I've started fucking. What's the big deal?"_

" _You were a virgin when you started her a year ago…"_

 _I rolled my eyes. "So what? I learned quickly."_

 _Miranda nodded. "Yeah. I know."_

 _I swallowed then, suddenly getting a vague idea of what Miranda wanted. "Jesus. Just come out and say it, then. You want me to fuck you?"_

 _Miranda did her best not to flush, and somehow managed to succeed, although I knew that she would look hot as fuck with red cheeks… "Yeah…"_

 _I smirked at her, crossing my arms. "I see."_

 _Miranda lowered her eyes. "Look, I just heard that you don't discriminate, and I just figured that maybe you'd be willing to help me out…"_

" _If by 'don't discriminate', you mean I fuck guys and girls, yeah. I fuck both," I replied. "But I'm not your typical young woman who fucks both."_

" _How do you mean?" she asked._

" _Well, I'm pansexual, not bisexual," I told Miranda carefully. "I'm not attracted to what's between your legs—I'm attracted to the personality attached to your brain."_

" _So, does this mean you'll do it?"_

 _I shrugged. "I don't know. Why me?"_

" _Because I can't ask another guy—it'd be cheating."_

 _I scoffed. "Oh, that old story…"_

 _Miranda's silvery eyes shot to mine, and I knew then that her heart was hammering beneath the creamy skin of her throat. "So, that's a 'no', then?"_

" _Oh, for the love of…" I threw down my backpack then and crossed over to her, tilting her chin up then and staring into her eyes. We were close in height, so it wouldn't take much effort on my part to reach her. "Perhaps if you were a bit more confident," I told her, speaking gently, "then people could take you more seriously." I leaned forward then, teasing her deliberately, as I ran my tongue momentarily over her lips, and Miranda shuffled from foot to foot, inexperience and arousal radiating from her body. "But this isn't why we're here...pity," I said, smirking at her as I pulled back, disappointment staring at me. "But, don't fret—I always make good on my promises," I tell her. I reach out then and take her hands, which had attempted to knot themselves in my hair, and had them grip onto a pair of metal rods behind her._

" _What… What are you doing?" she asked._

 _I fixed her with a look. "Want to get your uniform all dirty?"_

 _Miranda looked confused. "No, but that still doesn't answer my…"_

" _Jesus… Less than a minute of me doing this, and you'll be on your ass if you don't hold on for dear life. You feel me?" I ask her, my tone impatient._

 _Miranda turned beet red then. "Loud and clear."_

" _Good," I replied, turning towards my backpack and pulling out hand sanitizer, rubbing a generous amount all over my hands before I got to work. Returning it to my backpack and kneeling in front of her, glad then that I'd brought a spare pair of jeans to wear to work, knowing that dirty knees wouldn't be acceptable. I reached up then without hesitation, hiking up her cheerleader skirt and moving away the panty section, raising my eyebrows when I noticed just how ready Miranda was. "Cute," I whispered, and Miranda spasmed slightly at the feeling of my hot breath on her. "Calm down," I said, running my hands carefully along her inner thighs. "You need to relax, Hayworth."_

 _Miranda nodded, a jerking movement. "I'll try…"_

" _Fantastic," I said, forcing myself not to sound or be annoyed with her as I leaned in closer to Miranda again._

 _I parted my lips automatically, grazing the tips of her with my tongue, and a soft moan escaped Miranda's lips. Reaching upwards, I covered her lips with my hand, before delving back in, the moaning against my hand not stopping. Furiously lapping with my tongue, I could sense Miranda's legs begging to buckle, and it was then that I seized upon that one spot that could end things quickly, wrapping my lips around it without hesitation. I then began the sucking motion, and Miranda spasmed then, and I yanked my head back and away from her, licking my lips for a moment before I wiped my lips with the back of my hand, while all the while Miranda continued gripping the metal rods._

" _Holy...fuck," she whispered, her voice raw as she opened her eyes. Finally, she let the poles go and straightened herself up, while I bent to grab my backpack. "Any chance you need me to return the favor?" she asked, cupping my ass while I was caught unawares._

 _Immediately, I turned around, grabbing ahold of her wrist and shoving it away from me. "No, that's quite all right," I told her, my voice firm._

 _Miranda looked hurt. "Well… Any chance of a round two sometime?"_

 _I sighed, making a face. "No, I think once was enough."_

" _You don't take repeat customers, then?"_

 _I felt myself narrowing my eyes at her. "Customers?! Nobody pays for this shit, Miranda! Oh, my god, you're weird," I said, moving to trudge past her._

" _Please," she said, gripping onto my arm as I walked away. "Please."_

 _I made a noise of disgust and pulled away from her. "I may not discriminate, Miranda, but I don't fuck straight girls looking for a thrill."_

" _But… But I'm not…"_

" _Yeah, keep telling yourself that," I told her, pulling myself through the rods and leaving her there on her own._

I remembered my words to Miranda then, knowing then just how inexperienced I was. I was only fourteen at the time, and had only started fucking two weeks before that had happened. I was scared, that was true, but there was also the notion that Miranda was straight, and she was. She and Rex got engaged right after graduation, and had gotten married just a few weeks prior. I mean, sure, she could've been in the closet or something, but why wouldn't she come out, even if she was? Her family was totally accepting of everyone, that much I knew, so it wasn't a familial issue. It was probably a dare, I decided then; or something she wanted to do before she graduated high school herself. The point was, she'd done it, and I'd had more than a little fun beneath the bleachers myself during high school. Maybe it wasn't love, as it was with Uncle Ian and Pops, but maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't need something like that in my life…

. . .

"You went full-silent last weekend," Franny said that evening, during the dinner shift at work, when she and I had managed to finish our final day of high school unscathed. "What were you even doing?"

"Hanging out with Pops and Uncle Ian."

"You always answer my texts if you do," she replied, handing me a menu to dry off. "Why didn't you then?"

"I didn't want to take away your time with Ezra."

Franny rolled her eyes. "He's a toddler—they have to nap eventually."

I laughed at that, stacking the now-dried menu into the pile. "Well, I'm sorry if mommy duty is growing boring for you, Franny, but when you made the choice to have Ezra…"

"Please, don't give me that lecture," she said, making a face. "You look and sound so much like my mother when you give it…"

I smirked. "Sorry," I said, taking another menu.

"But seriously," she went on, wiping down another menu, "what was so pressing about time with Uncle Ian and Mickey that made you want to ignore your best friend?"

"Just something they said," I replied, taking the menu once she'd finished with it, and dragging my rag along its surface.

"Something bad?"

"Something confusing as hell," I told her, my voice barely above a whisper as I rolled my shoulders in contemplation. "You know that Pops had five siblings?"

"Five?" Franny asked, looking shocked. "No. I thought he was an only child."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," I said.

"So...five," she said. "Wow."

"Four brothers, one sister," I told her.

"Yeah? You look them up?"

"Couple of the brothers are locked up—robbery or some shit," I said. "Then a couple of them live far away. But the sister…"

"She still local?"

"Yeah, real local," I replied. "Found her address online and went to see her."

"Really? She see you?"

"Yeah, and we hung out. She's really nice. I gave her my number later, after I left. I also invited her to graduation, to."

"That's great. Your pops know about it yet?"

"I may have mentioned it to him. Him and Uncle Ian are psyched out of their minds to see her. I mean, when they were teenagers, Uncle Ian and my aunt were best friends."

"What's her name?"

"Mandy," I told her.

"Wow, that's amazing that you're connecting with her!"

"Yeah, and that we look so much alike," I told her. "Same hair."

Franny laughed. "Just like your pops!"

"But that's not the only thing," I said, lowering my voice.

Franny looked surprised. "Wait. There's more than a previously unknown aunt?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Apparently, Mandy and Uncle Lip were a thing."

"No way," Franny said.

I grinned. "Oh, yeah. And Mandy doesn't seem to be over him."

Franny grinned back at me. "Oh, I see what you're doing here…"

I spread my hands. "Well, since we're both graduating, and Uncle Lip and Mandy are both set to be there, I figure it's high time for something to happen…"

"Uncle Lip has been single for a while," Franny said, mulling it over.

"For a while? Try virtually forever," I replied, shaking my head. "Maybe it's because he didn't get over Mandy…"

"Talk about a love story for the ages," Franny told me, grinning.

"Waitress!" called an annoyed voice from across the restaurant. "Are you done gossiping, or could I get a coffee refill?"

"I got it," I told Franny, sticking out my tongue and rolling my eyes at her, which thankfully the customer didn't see, and grabbed the coffee pot. I moved out from behind the counter, crossing towards one of the booths by the window, where the customer was sitting. "Is there anything else I can get you, sir?" I asked, using the term lightly, as I poured the coffee.

"Yeah. Get me a slice of pie."

"Sure thing," I said, raising my eyes, and attempting to force my jaw not to hit the floor as I took in the customer—or, rather, his profile, beneath an appealing head of dark brown hair. "Will there be anything else?"

"Cherry," he told me, lowering his newspaper to get a good look at me, his silver eyes taking me in for a moment before he jerked his head back towards the kitchen. "If you still have some in that case of yours."

I cleared my throat then, suddenly realizing just how dry my mouth had become in just a handful of seconds. "Uh, yeah, yeah," I said, nodding my head, forcing myself to hold his hauntingly beautiful gaze for a moment before I stumbled backwards, toward the counter again.

"You look like you've seen a ghost or something," Franny said as I nearly spilled the remainder of the coffee in the pot, as I placed it back inside its holder. "What's with you?"

I flexed my hands in and out for a moment, attempting to keep my heartbeat to a minimum, and to prevent them from shaking. "Y-yeah," I stammered, moving over to the cooling case, where the pies were kept. I slid open the door, removing the glass pie plate of cherry, and set it down onto the counter, before removing a microwave-safe plate from the shelf below. "Fine. Why do you ask?"

"You've just never given a reaction like that, about anything," she said, watching as I sliced a generous piece of pie and put it onto the plate. "You didn't even have as big a reaction when I told you I was pregnant with Ezra…"

I cleared my throat again, putting the slice of pie into the microwave and returning the rest of the cherry into the case. "Nothing to worry about," I said, flashing Franny a smile and inputting a time onto the microwave and slamming the door. "I'd make an excuse about me being a people person, but god knows that's not the case… I'm like a fucking cat."

Franny laughed lightly at that. "Yeah, you're definitely cat-like," she said, hesitating for a moment, as the microwave hummed between us. "But, seriously, Iana… You literally seemed like you had a full-body reaction to that guy over there…"

I shook my head at Franny, nearly jumping as the microwave beeped behind me, and practically delved beneath the counter to get the pie from inside it. "Not possible, Franny," I told her, moving around her and making my way back to the table. "Here's your slice of cherry pie, sir," I said, setting it down beside his mug of coffee. "Is there anything else you'll be needing?"

The beautiful stranger raised his eyes to mine; his gaze held mine for a moment, the fire beneath the silver in his eyes igniting slightly. This directly caused my heart to hammer inside my chest again, and my mouth promptly went dry once more. My hands, I knew, would be clammy to the touch, and my knees were so close to becoming weak. His lips parted then, and I wondered if he was going to say something along the lines of, "Yeah. You bent over this table, so I can feast on whatever I want to."

"I'm fine, thank you…" He hesitated for a moment, looking me over, and it was then that I realized he was looking for a nametag.

"Iana," I said.

"Thank you, Iana," he replied.

I nodded stiffly, walking back to the counter and going behind it, the stack of menus I needed to dry still waiting for me. I later brought the stranger his bill, and was surprised at the hefty tip he ended up leaving me—two fifty-dollar bills. Pocketing the cash, I cleaned up the rest of the table then, and was perplexed to see the index card beneath the bill itself, printed with shimmering golden letters on some expensive-feeling paper. It read _W.K., CEO_ , and, for the life of me, I couldn't understand what those initials stood for. Ignoring the rest of the text upon the card, promising myself to read it later, I slipped it, beside the generous tip, inside the front pocket of my jeans and continued cleaning up.

. . .

Franny and I walked down the aisle of the track at our high-school football stadium together thirteen days later. We filled in quickly, sitting in the metal folding chairs, and arranging the black silk of our graduation gowns accordingly. Peeking up at the stands, several yards behind us, we could just make out the section our family was sitting in. Coming for us that day were my parents, Aunt Debbie and Ezra, Pops and Uncle Ian, Uncle Lip, and Aunt Fiona, who had flown all the way from New York for the occasion. Our uncles, Carl and Liam, had been unable to make it due to other obligations; my brothers, Clayton and Fionn, were at some party, and my other siblings were with our grandparents.

I knew that Mandy was likely sitting somewhere else, as she had told me she didn't think it would be appropriate to see the family until after the ceremony. I understood her way of thinking, crossing my fingers that she would still be there as I turned back around in my seat. I watched with Franny as the introductory music came to an end, and the principal made her way to the microphone and podium, thanking the graduates, friends, family, and other individuals for being there that day.

"And, now, of course," said Principal Sanchez, "I heartily welcome William Kennedy, CEO of the Kennedy Bureau, one of the youngest billionaires in the United States, very generous philanthropist, and our official speaker this evening. Ladies and gentlemen, please help me in welcoming William Kennedy," she said, clapping mightily then, the student body, and the guests behind us in the bleachers quickly following suit.

I felt my mouth falling open then as William Kennedy got to his feet, shadowed by the awning of the canopy he stood beneath, and came out into the light. As he stood there at the podium, and finished shaking Principal Sanchez's hand, he turned and regarded the audience, his silver eyes stopping briefly upon me before he continued to gaze out at us all. I felt my heart hammering in my chest then, the notion that he was her—actually _here_ —as the speaker at my high school graduation was just about as daunting as an experience as I could imagine.

"Iana?" Franny whispered as the audience continued applauding around us. "You okay?"

"It's him," I whispered.

"What?!" she hissed.

"The customer from the diner...that's fucking _him_!" I cried out as the applause finally died down, and William Kennedy smiled at us all.

"Thank you very much," William Kennedy said, his voice even more beautiful whilst amplified on the sound speaker system. "It's such a great honor to be speaking to all of you young graduates this evening. Here you all are, about to take your next steps out into the world, all the mandatory education under your belt, when all you might want to do is party, right?" he asked, and much of the audience—mainly the popular crowd—laughed. "Well, I'm not going to stand here and tell you not to party. But I am not about to tell you that hard work is a bad thing. When I was a young boy, all I could think about was making a difference within society, and when my father unexpectedly passed away when I was fifteen, I was given that chance. My family came from money, but due to some bad investments on my father's side, we were unable to hang onto it accordingly. I began college that fall, and worked my way through it quickly, graduating by the time I was eighteen. From there, I made some very good investments, and built my company from the ground-up very quickly. While I was able to get my family out from underneath the heavy stigma of poverty, I was also able to do something else—give back. Give back to the community that I'd once been a part of, and because of all that, I am the person I am today. Not only am I a billionaire, ladies and gentlemen, but I work hard to make sure that less and less children go hungry, less and less people are out of work, and less and less people stigma goes to not making a living wage. I know that, with help from each and every one of you joining the workforce, in your own unique way, will help anyone and everyone that you possibly can. I know you will work hard to achieve your dreams and do what you want to in life, and I can only hope that you will do it honestly. Thank you very much, and congratulations."

Principal Sanchez applauded William Kennedy as we all did, before she approached the podium once more. "And now, please welcome our valedictorian, Miss Iana Gallagher-Blomqvist," she said happily, and I managed, somehow, to get to my feet, crossing the way and up to the podium beneath the awning, doing my best not to look at William Kennedy, whose eyes, I felt, boring into the back of my body.

"Hello, and welcome to friends, family, and the graduating class," I began, and, for the life of me, I could not get my voice to stop shaking.

. . .

Once the ceremony had ended, and diplomas had been collected, Franny and I linked arms and made our way through the crowd, doing our best to find our family safely. My mind was a blur, however, as I considered the card that William Kennedy had left for me that day, nearly two weeks beforehand. Upon turning it over, I saw that he'd written on the back, telling me that he had enjoyed my services, and that it had been refreshing. He then wrote down a number on it, one that I could only assume was a phone number, which had left me dizzy for the last several days as I thought about it.

"There she is!" Pops cried out as he saw me through the crowd.

I broke away from Franny then, dashing towards him and into his arms. I laughed aloud then as he kissed me on the forehead, before passing me over to my mother. I did my best to hug her accordingly, and then Dad, before I let him go and grabbed onto Uncle Ian. "Boy, that was an ordeal," I joked, pulling back, watching as Franny held protectively onto Ezra. "Thanks for coming out all this way, Aunt Fiona," I said, stepping forward and embracing her.

"Anything for you, sweetie," she replied.

"Aunt Debbie," I said, breaking away from her and hugging her.

"We all knew you could do it, honey," she said.

"Well, now that we've got everyone here, why don't we celebrate this Gallagher-style?" my mom asked.

Instantly, I pulled back from Aunt Debbie, knowing that it was now or never. "Actually, before anyone says or plans anything, I have a surprise…"

"Yeah?" Uncle Lip said, stepping forward and throwing his arms around my shoulders. "What kind of surprise?"

I grinned, taking out my phone and quickly sending the text to Mandy, saying nothing, at first. I quickly got the response, of her telling me she was on the move and would be with us shortly, and grinned up at Uncle Lip. "Something for you, actually."

"Me?" Uncle Lip asked. "What'd you do?"

"Franny knows," I said, and shared a grin with her.

"Oh, she does, does she?" Aunt Debbie asked.

"And Pops and Uncle Ian," I said quietly.

Uncle Lip looked at all of us, shrugging his shoulders. "I still don't know what—"

"Hey, everyone."

Immediately, I turned to see Mandy standing there, and Pops and Uncle Ian immediately surrounded her then, holding her to them, and Mandy laughed slightly. I saw that Aunt Debbie looked pleased, hugging her next, while Aunt Fiona looked a little annoyed—Uncle Ian had informed me that they'd never been on the best of terms—while Uncle Lip looked stunned from beside me. My parents looked at one another, and my mother seemed to put two and two together very quickly, and was giving my father a brief summary of what she believed to be happening before us all. I turned and looked at Franny, who motioned for me to push Uncle Lip forward, and I sprang into action then, as Pops, Uncle Ian, and Aunt Debbie quickly moved out of the way, as I shoved him forward.

"Mandy?" Uncle Lip said, his voice stunned.

"Hey, Lip," she said, smiling slightly. "Long time."

"Hell of a long time…" Uncle Lip shook his head then, swallowing slightly, and it was then that I saw just how nervous he was. "Before you run off…"

She shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere, Lip. Promise."

"Good," Uncle Lip said quickly. "Could… Could we talk, please?"

Mandy nodded at him. "Of course we can talk, Lip. Sure."

I gravitated slightly towards Franny for a moment then, and we watched as Uncle Lip and Mandy walked off together, only a few yards or so away from us. They spoke for what must've seemed like a handful of seconds before Uncle Lip looked scared as hell. Then, he looked as if he couldn't take it anymore, and yanked Mandy towards him, kissing her. Mandy's body registered shock then—but only for a moment—as she threw her arms around him in the next moment that followed. I turned and looked at Franny, who grinned at me, and we slapped each other five for our team work.

"Something tells me you were planning this," Pops said.

I shrugged, grinning over at him. "I'm so sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I can't say anything without my lawyer present."

Pops laughed aloud. "Spoken like a Milkovich, that's for sure."

I heard footsteps approaching from behind me then, and, as I turned around, felt my heart slowly but surely hammering in my throat then as William Kennedy approached us all.

"Excuse me," he said.

"Yeah?" I asked him.

"Could I have a word, please, Iana?"

I nodded then, swallowing quickly and moved away from my family then, and followed William Kennedy just off the parking lot, where nobody was. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kennedy, if my service wasn't up to par," I said carefully as we walked along. "You see, the restaurant belongs to my mother, so slack, as I'm sure you can understand, is cut."

William Kennedy shook his head. "It's not about the service you gave me, Iana."

I raised my eyebrows. "Very well, then. What is it about?"

He dragged his hand through his hair. "I behaved inappropriately, and for that, I apologize. If you wish for compensation of any kind…"

I laughed aloud then, and he looked shocked at my demeanor. "You're saying that you behaved inappropriately? Please. If we're talking about inappropriateness, my thoughts should be on trial, not your actions. You did nothing wrong, sir."

"Wait. Your thoughts?"

I scoffed then, suddenly feeling very hot beneath my robe—and for good reason, given that William Kennedy was allowed to walk around like that, drop dead gorgeous in an Armani suit—and lifted it effortlessly over my head, my skin-tight, strapless, black dress leaving little to the imagination as I draped the gown over my arm, which made William Kennedy's eyes pop at my actions. "Don't let the hooker heels fool you," I said as he looked at me up at down. "My thoughts are just as dirty, believe me."

"But… I saw in the graduation program, you're under eighteen…"

"I'm sixteen, that's true," I replied, shrugging as if it didn't even matter, "but believe me when I say this, Mr. Kennedy, I'm no virgin."

"You said your thoughts were inappropriate…"

I grinned up at him. "Yeah, they were. I wanted you to bend me over on the table," I said, and bit down hard on my lower lip, in an effort to dissuade my body from melting at his gaze.

"That's very inappropriate, Iana…"

"I'm allowed to think what I like," I replied easily.

"But I, unfortunately, am not allowed to do what I like in every situation. For fuck's sake, you're a minor," he went on, "and you're certainly not making this easy for me…"

"Maybe I don't want to make this easy for you," I told him, lowering my voice. "Maybe I just want you to show me that you want me, as much as I want you."

"That's silly," he said. "We barely know each other…"

"Sexual attraction can be blind," I replied. "You don't necessarily need to know someone to be sexually attracted to them…"

"I am not sexually attracted to you," he said firmly. "You're a child."

I smiled slightly then, closing the distance between us and standing before him, his body length-wise against mine, and felt something shift from inside his pants. "Really?" I asked him, and lowered my eyes, blatantly staring at his crotch. "I beg to differ."

"You're still a child…"

"I'm a woman," I replied, stepping closer still, his scent—which radiated off his pores—was damn near intoxicating, but I wouldn't allowing myself to go light-headed, not yet. "I'm a woman, and I know when I know what I want."

"Do you?"

"I do," I told him. "I know it very well."

He didn't dare allow himself to touch me; one false move, in his mind, could get him locked up for statutory, and I knew he certainly didn't want that. "I'm sure you do, Iana. But this isn't wise—you know that, don't you?"

"I know you're only twenty-one…"

"Five years older than you."

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter—not to me," I said, standing on my toes then, wrapping my arms around him and kissing him, tasting him, and damn near falling over on my heels as I did so. The clouds had parted to a way of life I'd never known I wanted, and there I was, my arms wrapped around an incredible man, never wanting to stop…

"Iana," William Kennedy said, disengaging my arms from around his neck, his voice husky with longing, "we can't."

I stared up at him then in shock—no one, guy or girl, had ever turned me down. "You… You don't want to?" I asked him.

He sighed. "Physically, yes. Legally, no."

I bit my lower lip. "I see."

His jaw set then, and he was obviously fighting with himself on right and wrong. "You said you were sixteen…"

I blinked. "Yeah. I am."

"Okay," he said. "When do you turn eighteen?"

"In May," I replied. "May twentieth, two years from now."

William Kennedy nodded. "Okay."

I shook my head. "Okay?"

"Okay. On your eighteenth birthday, if you're single, I'll come to the diner. If you're not there, I'll track you down somehow. Then, we can finish what we started."

I shook my head. "What do you mean 'if I'm single'? What about you? I don't fuck people who aren't single…" _Except for Miranda Hayworth, but that was a one-time thing…_

William Kennedy grinned. "I don't date, Iana. Trust me. I'll be single."

I smirked up at him. "Well, I'll be single, too. I don't date either."

He nodded, reaching out then and cupping my face in his strong hand for a moment. "Good to know, Iana. Good to know."

"I see, William, that you drive a hard bargain…"

He chuckled. "And, for fuck's sake, never call me 'William' again. It was my father's name, and that son of a bitch shouldn't be remembered."

I wanted to pry, but knew then that it was not the time. "Mr. Kennedy, then?"

"No, no. Call me 'Liam', everyone does."

"Everyone?"

"My mother and younger sister. They're the only family I've got left."

Yet another thing I wanted to ask, but didn't know how appropriate that would be at this time, given that he wouldn't fuck me, so I thought direct questions about his personal life were also off the table. "Okay, Liam. I can do that."

"Well, I suppose you'll have to return to your family now…"

"One last thing," I said, standing on my toes and kissing him again, knowing that I had to keep myself completely in check this time, and, thankfully, just managed to do so. "Something to remember me by," I said, and smiled up at him.

Liam smiled down at me without hesitation in that small moment. "I don't think I'll be forgetting you anytime soon, Iana Gallagher-Blomqvist," he replied.

I smirked up at him. "See that you don't, Liam," I replied, turning around and giving him an eyeful as I crossed the track and field to rejoin my family.


	4. The Eleventh Hour

Chapter Four: The Eleventh Hour

Suffice it to say that after the obligatory family dinner that I'd been subjected to after the graduation ceremony, I returned to my bedroom quickly that night when Mom, Dad, and I had returned home. With Clayton and Fionn still at their party, and Carla and Charlie spending the night at Grandma and Grandpa's place, I knew that my parents would be taking it to their bedroom sooner rather than later. I trekked upstairs to my bedroom, shutting the curtains around my window and shutting the door behind me.

Popping my earbuds into my ears and cranking up Rogue Traders _Voodoo Child_ into my ears, I felt as if the song was my personal anthem as I slipped off my dress, and yanked on a sports bra and a pair of shorts before I hastily tapped up my knuckles. I made a grab for one of my hair ties atop my dresser then, combing my hair with my fingers and yanking it into place, so as my raven mane was in a long ponytail down my back. Facing my punching bag head on, with each second that ticked by, I readily poised myself, bracing my wrists for impact. The smash that came with each swing of my fist was quite pleasant, my right hook very impressive, which Pops had worked on with me for the past five years.

" _Being half-Milkovich in this neighborhood," he'd told me, "you've got a reputation to hold up to, kid."_

" _Think I can do it, Pops?"_

" _I know you can do it, kiddo. You're also half-Gallagher. Milkovich's know how to fight, and Gallagher's know how to never give up."_

"Never. Give. Up!" I said through gritted teeth, suddenly jumping back to the present with my thoughts, repeatedly slamming my fists into that godforsaken bag. Had to have been one of the best presents Pops had procured for me; it was a total shocker at my tenth birthday party, but a ready hit with me, literally. "You're half-Gallagher, half-Milkovich, dammit," I went on, always through my teeth, ignoring the drips of sweat which dripped down my temples. "Never. Fucking. Give. Up!"

I went on and on that way for what must've been a solid hour, until the bones in my arms were threatening to crack under pressure. Ripping my earbuds from my ears, I rolled my shoulders and ripped the tape from my knuckles, grabbing a towel and moving towards my bathroom. As the oldest child, my parents had had an en suite bathroom installed for me, in what used to be a linen closet in the main hallway. It didn't matter to them; I was a naturally a private person when it came to bathing habits, and I didn't want just anyone to catch me in a towel. Stepping inside, I shut and locked the door behind me, hanging up my towel on the peg behind the door and taking off my sports bra and shorts.

Turning on the hot water quickly enveloped the bathroom with steam, and I flicked on the fan to prevent suffocation or some shit. Stepping into the shower, I felt my muscles responding almost instantly to the hotness of the temperature, unknotting themselves easily. I shampooed and conditioned my hair expertly and quickly, making sure to get the sweat particles from my body as the hum of the fan echoed in my ears. After a few minutes, I let myself out and made a grab for my towel, drying my hair quickly and stepping back out into my bedroom, throwing my dirty clothes in the hamper.

I caught sight of my phone then, raising my eyebrows as it lit up from its place on my bed, where it was plugged into the wall charger beside it. Perplexed, I went to my dresser and grabbed a pair of panties, yanking them on as I migrated back over to my phone. Seeing Fionn's number and contact photo popping up, I rolled my eyes, but nevertheless swiped right on the green phone icon and placed the electronic device up against my ear.

"Yeah?" I said into it.

"Thank god you picked up!" Fionn said into the phone, his voice desperate.

Immediately, I was concerned, and my heart thudded in my chest. "What the hell is going on over there?!" I demanded, trying to keep my voice down.

"Clayton chugged a keg and he's passed out," Fionn said, obviously not wanting to get into trouble himself.

"Jesus," I muttered, dragging my hand over my face and moving towards my dresser again, making a grab for a pair of capri pants and a tank top. "Where the fuck are you guys?"

"Brian Selmer's place, across town," Fionn told me quickly. "I'm locked in one of the upstairs bathrooms with Clayton…"

"Fine. I'm coming," I told him, quickly tying my shoelaces on my sneakers and disengaging my phone from the wall charger. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll be there, okay?"

"Okay," Fionn replied shakily.

"See you soon," I assured him, grabbing my keys and hanging up. I yanked the curtains out of the way then, swinging open the window and bracing myself against its frame, using the ladder to climb down and to hurry by the side of the house and through the front yard area. I dashed towards the gate and swung it open, kicking it shut behind me and running faster than lightning across the street, yanking open the other gate and running up the steps of the porch, using my key and letting myself inside. "Pops!" I shouted. "Uncle Ian!"

There was a loud thump from upstairs, followed by a "Fuck!" and I immediately felt bile encroaching on my throat as I considered what was happening up there. I stepped into the living room, hearing more bangs from upstairs and then the sounds of footsteps as they both headed down together, shoes in their hands, belts undone, and hair messed-up. I looked away from the two of them, slightly embarrassed at the state I'd found them in, waiting for them to make themselves presentable as I leaned casually against the couch. I could give a fuck as to what happened in the bedroom; it was the notion that my biological father and uncle were doing to one another that really made my stomach turn because it was _them_ …

"You okay, kiddo?" Pops asked.

I chanced a look at them and, seeing that they were presentable, immediately felt relieved. "It looks like Clayton hit a kegger pretty hard at that party," I said, and both of them swore under their breath. "He's passed out in one of the bathrooms, and Fionn's freaking out."

"Okay," Pops said, nodding as Uncle Ian fetched the baseball bat from the corner. "Where we going, then?"

"Brian Selmer's place," I replied. "My GPS can direct us."

"Good," Uncle Ian replied, putting his hands on Pops's and my shoulder and guiding us back to the open front door. "Let's get going."

I nodded, moving quickly towards my car as Uncle Ian locked up the house; Pops got into the passenger seat, with Uncle Ian getting into the back. I was riding driver's side, and immediately stuck my key into the ignition, showing Pops the text with the address, which he quickly keyed into the GPS system. I pulled out from my parking space then, not wanting to hit so hard on the gas, but also knowing that I needed to get Clayton the hell outta there. As we drove, Pops and Uncle Ian discussed potential strategies, while all the while I kept my ears closed and eyes glued to the darkening road ahead. The sun was just beginning to set, and it would be dark by the time I got the boys home. Hopefully, however, Mom and Dad would be too passed out in marital bliss to give much of a fuck.

"Looks like this is the house," Pops said around twelve minutes later as we pulled up at a Cape Cod house, which was way nicer than our ghetto.

"Okay," Uncle Ian said, keeping a good grip on the baseball bat as he and Pops moved to get out of the car.

I moved up to the door first, knowing how to handle teenage boys if things got too out of hand. I knew that the twins were only twelve, and nearly as wise beyond their years as I was, but the notion that Mom and Dad had actually let them go to a party like this… I shook my head as I stopped myself from kicking the door in, knowing I shouldn't pass judgement automatically, and merely opened it, Pops and Uncle Ian just behind me. The blaring music pumped from the speakers, directly into my ears, as I yanked my phone out of my pocket, taking Fionn's directions to the bathroom that he and Clayton were holed up in to heart as I moved towards the staircase and hesitantly climbed it.

"You okay?" Uncle Ian asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. You two scope out down here. I'll take the upstairs."

"You sure?" Pops wanted to know.

I smiled at them. "Positive. Go ahead and search. I'll be fine." I continued up the stairs, the atrocious carpet I stepped on stained terribly with the beer that Clayton had likely consumed that night, and I knew the owners would have a hell of a cleaning bill ahead of them.

"Look at who we've got here," said a guy, causing my gaze to snap upwards then at the voice, as I knew it was addressing me. This guy, who was obviously in high school and seemed pretty proud of that fact, as he attempted to corner me on the landing. "I didn't know we were having entertainment brought here tonight," he said, the scent of cheap beer wafting into my nostrils and making me want to gag. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"I don't give my name out to strangers," I said, attempting to sidestep him.

"Hey, baby, don't be like that," he said, placing both of his meaty hands on either side of my head, his palms against the wall, effectively blocking me in. "Now, as a man, I asked you a question. As a woman, you're expected to answer me."

"Who are you, and what age-old decade did you escape from?" I asked, my tone filled with malice as I stared up at him.

The guy's eyes narrow slightly then, and he slams one of his hands, so suddenly a fist, into the wall beside one of my ears, the sound resembling gun fire. "I really hate it when chicks just come into my house and don't tell me their name," he growls down at me. "Now, are you going to be nice and give it to me, or be a fucking cunt and get punished?"

I forced myself to grin up at him, before I reached behind him before he could blink, twisting his arm around his back and slamming him, without hesitation, up against the wall where he had just attempted to pin me and do god knows what for my behavior. "Wouldn't you like to know, big boy," I said, and he immediately stiffened in my grip. "I'll take being a fucking cunt any day, thank you very much. Now, unless you want to take a little trip down the stairs, you'll leave me the fuck alone."

"I… I'm going downstairs," he said, and I let him go, fighting the urge to trip him as I turned and walked the rest of the way up the stairs. I counted the doors along the hallway, finally finding the one that Fionn had indicated and knocked. "Fionn? You in there?"

The door opened slowly, and Fionn's dark brown eyes, the same shade as mine and our Aunt Fiona's, stared back at me. "Jesus, Iana," he said, throwing open the door and throwing himself into my arms. "I'm so glad you came…"

Immediately, I held him to me; since we were children, I'd become a surrogate mother to the boys, since our mother's dirty dealings with Tommy Matthews. Even though our dad had returned to our lives and things were good again, our mom making us a priority in the public eye once more, the bond had not been severed, as evidenced by tonight. "I would never not come, Fionn, you know that," I told him gently, relieved that I didn't smell any beer on him as I moved into the bathroom, regarding Clayton lying lengthwise on the bathroom floor. "Jesus Christ, Clayton," I said, letting Fionn go and crossing over to him. "Has he puked?"

"Yeah. Just passed out a few minutes before you came."

I nodded. "Okay," I said, grabbing some toilet paper and running it under the water of the sink, dabbing at the remainder of the vomit, caked around his lips. "Go downstairs and get Pops and Uncle Ian."

"Wait… You brought them?"

I turned and looked at Fionn then, raising my eyebrows at his tone. "Yeah, I fucking brought them, because, like it or not, I can't be fucking Wonder Woman every fucking second," I hissed at him, turning back to Clayton and finishing cleaning around his mouth. "Go downstairs and get them and then we can get the hell outta here, okay?"

Sighing, knowing that winning was impossible, Fionna rolled his eyes before he left the bathroom and made his way downstairs. I bit my lip then, throwing the piece of soiled toilet paper away before I dried off the wet sections of his mouth with a fresh piece and throwing it away as well. Tentatively, I lifted him up then, hoisting him up and allowing his head to dangle along my backside as I took him out of the bathroom and towards the staircase. Pops and Uncle Ian, followed by Fionn, met us there, with Pops taking over carrying duties as we made our way towards the front door, and out into the darkening summer night.

"Saw you handle what's-his-name on the staircase," Pops told me as we drove through the night, back towards home.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah. Like a true Milkovich," he said, punching me in the arm.

"Hey, can't complain," I replied.

We drove the rest of the way home in virtual silence, with Uncle Ian and Fionn making sure that Clayton didn't hurl in my backseat. Once we arrived back home, I told them that I could take it from there, and Pops and Uncle Ian walked across the street. After locking up my car, Fionn opened up the front door of the house, and we conspicuously carried Clayton upstairs, with Fionn carrying his legs. Once we got to their shared bedroom, I threw Clayton onto his bed, fingers crossed that he wouldn't throw up again. Finally, when he remained passed out, I told Fionn to get him a glass of water and some pain pills before I slowly moved towards the door to leave their bedroom.

"Wait. You're done helping?"

"Done helping?" I asked, turning to face him. "You have got to be fucking kidding me right now, Fionn."

Fionn shrugged. "You could get him the water and pain pills…"

"Yeah, or you fucking could," I shot back.

He rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to be the oldest."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"The oldest kids help…"

"Yeah, I am the oldest," I shot back, "and I do a lot of shit for you. I help you make good grades in school by being your personal fucking tutor. I make your lunches, or make sure you have cash to buy lunch. I go grocery shopping several times a week, just to make sure there's food in the house, because our parents work a shit ton of work hours. I make sure that you, Clayton, Carla, and Charlie are all up on time for school, and hell, sometimes I even take you there. I do your fucking laundry, knowing your various schedules, and knowing when you need certain clothes for certain activities, while I had a fucking job, I might add," I said, hating when I felt my face flush and tears falling. "I do a shit ton for you, Fionn; hell, I was your fucking mother when I was a fucking child, because our own mother couldn't be fucking bothered. I was a goddamn toddler, and you two were fucking babies… Do you know how long it took me to learn how to change a diaper? Thirty fucking seconds, because Uncle Ian was constantly running around, managing the house, and making sure that Uncle Liam didn't shirk off school duties. I may only be three and a half years older than you two, Fionn, but I've done so much for you, I may as well be an old woman. You're my fucking kids; you have been since Mom shacked up with Tommy. I know that their relationship is dead and gone, and that he's rotting away in a prison cell somewhere, and that Mom took us back, but I never stopped being your guys's parent. So don't just stand there and tell me that I never fucking help you, or I'm trying to go and get a good night's sleep, because I fucking deserve it. I just graduated high school for Christ's sake, Fionn, and I want a fucking break. I didn't sign up to be your mom, it just fucking happened."

Fionn lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Good," I said, walking out of the room.

"Hey, I thought you said you were tired," Fionn cried out then, watching as I moved back towards the staircase.

"I'm always tired," I replied, my tone bitter as I walked down the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

"Out for some air," I replied, my voice ragged. "You get Clayton his pain pills and water, and keep an eye on him. I need to get out for a while," I told him, opening the front door and shutting it behind me, wanting more than anything to slam it. My keys were still gripped in my hand from before, cutting indentations into my skin, I noticed as I walked down the stairs of the porch and back towards my car. I let myself in, slamming that door behind me and massaging my temples, my face still flushed, and my eyes most likely red-rimmed. Rolling my shoulders, I fished my phone out of my pocket, going to the contacts icon and scrolling through, landing on the 'L's', before I selected a number and listened to the rings.

"Iana?" came the reply on the second ring.

"I need to see you," I whispered, willing for my voice not to break.

"Are you okay?"

"Hell of a night," I replied. "I just… I really need to see you…"

"Of course. Where should I meet you?"

"Meet me at Patsy's in fifteen minutes," I replied. I hung up then, managing to somewhat gather my thoughts before driving towards the diner quickly, and parking in the small alley lot that my mother had fashioned a few years back. I slipped from my car, slamming and locking the door behind me and making my way towards the back entrance, unlocking the door quickly and letting myself inside. I stood in the coldness of the room, locking the door behind me, just waiting for him to arrive.

At his knock just a couple of minutes later, I opened the door and pulled him inside, his expression one of shock as he took in my expression. I threw my arms around him, willing myself not to break down again, and he just stood there for several moments, holding me. I barely knew him, and yet, I was very close to trusting him with my life. The notion of him just holding me caused my skin to burn with a fire that I'd no idea would ever exist for me, and my heart was hammering in my ears faster than I thought possible.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

I bit my lip, finally breaking away from him and slowly looking up at him. "Just a lot of family drama," I replied, shrugging. "Complete bullshit, really."

Liam smirked slightly at the analogy. "I don't think anything having to do with you or your family could be called bullshit, Iana."

"One of my brothers drank at a party," I replied, and he raised his eyebrows. "I got called to go and get him, by his twin, and so I did…"

"You have twin brothers?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Clayton and Fionn."

"How old are they?"

"Twelve," I replied.

Liam was stunned. "Twelve? And drinking?"

"Hey, I started at thirteen, don't judge," I put in.

Liam threw up his hands. "No judgement," he said quickly, but I saw that he was, and I didn't blame him for it. "So, Clayton's going to be okay?"

I nodded. "He'll be fine. Just hit a kegger too hard and passed up. He'll wake up with a bitch of a hangover tomorrow, but he'll be fine…"

"Guess it's cool to have a big sister who'll bail you out like that…"

"They're my kids," I replied, and Liam looked surprised at my statement. "I'd bail them out of anything, if I could…"

"Your kids?"

I nodded again. "My kids."

"How are they your kids?"

I bit my lip. "When I was a little girl, my adoptive father's old record came to light," I said. "He went on the run, worried about what would happen. While he was gone, my mom took up with the very cop that brought up the record."

"Jesus," Liam said.

I nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. Tommy had my mom move me, Clayton, and Fionn out of the house, and our Uncle Ian, my mom's twin brother, took custody of us for the next year and a half or so. In that time, Clayton and Fionn saw me as their mother, and even though we're back with our mom now…" I shrugged my shoulders. "Guess I just never grew out of the role…"

"They your only siblings?"

I shook my head. "No. I also have a younger sister, Carla, and a baby brother, Charlie. He's just the baby of the family...he's not really a baby…"

Liam smiled. "I understand. I have a younger sister, Penelope."

I returned his smile. "She must really look up to you…"

"Not as much as Clayton and Fionn look up to you, I'm sure."

I locked my eyes with his then, and felt my lips part automatically, fearful of the answer, but also wanting to know the truth. "Is it only from a legal standpoint?"

Liam blinked. "Is what only from a legal standpoint?"

"Don't be stupid," I replied, my voice cutting then, the tenderness gone from the moment. "I'm talking about you turning me down earlier."

Liam sighed, obviously annoyed that we were back to this. "Iana…"

"No, I want to know," I replied, not daring to move from where I stood. "Is it because I'm not your type, or some shallow shit like that? Come on, Kennedy. I deserve to know the truth here, considering it's me we're talking about…"

"You and me," Liam cut in.

"Yeah, you and me," I replied, my tone bitter again. "What's so goddamned unappealing about me, then, Liam?"

"Jesus, Iana…"

"No, I want to know," I said, cutting across him. "Am I not your type or something? Why wouldn't you take advantage of this? I was practically begging for you to take me right there, underneath the fucking bleachers. I was fucking begging for it; you know it, and I know it. I just want to understand why you didn't take advantage of that…"

"Christ Iana! I'm five years older than you! Do you realize what could happen if the cops got wind of what I did, or what I wanted to do?!"

"I fucking hate cops," I said through my teeth, "so they're not getting anything from me, trust me, Liam. It's not like I'd shout it from the fucking rooftops or some shit…"

"Iana, it's not just about what you and I want here," Liam said then, his tone firm. "There's the law to consider. From a legal standpoint…"

"I could give a fuck about the fucking law," I replied. "Those laws were put in place to prevent assault, which I'm all for. But I'm here telling you that you fucking have my consent. I'm asking for it, begging for it. Do you expect me to stand here and fucking believe that you don't fucking want me at all?!"

Liam shook his head. "You don't know me, Iana…"

"I know all I need to know," I replied, and, finally, allowed myself to step closer to him, my heart pounding in my ears. "Please…"

"Fucking Christ!" Liam said through his teeth, grabbing me by the arms then and slamming me up against the wall, the intensity of his stare making me hotter than ever before. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that you think I don't fucking want you?"

"Well… Do you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Liam continued staring at me. "What do you think?"

"Obviously, I wouldn't know," I replied, "so I had to ask…"

Liam continued staring down at me then, before he turned me lose and made his way back towards the door. "I'm not doing this…"

"Doing what?" I demanded then, springing back into action and going after him. "Admitting to your baser instincts? It's not a crime…"

"Yeah, it is a fucking crime, Iana, because, in the eyes of the law, you're a fucking child…"

"Yeah, who has been adulting since she was three," I replied. "That makes me nineteen, in terms of years, meaning I'm an adult mentally."

Liam, by this time, had stopped walking away from me, but kept his back to me. "It's not that simple, Iana. And you know it."

"Then I'll make it simple for you," I replied. "I want you, Liam Kennedy. I want you sexually right now. I want you to bend me over backwards, or slam me up against that wall again, or force my legs around your fucking torso. However you want to do it, I'm down. I'm not going to regret it in the morning, or go to the fucking cops. I'm not."

Liam shook his head. "Doesn't make a difference…"

"Fucking admit it!" I shouted then, my voice raw as he placed his hand on the door, ready to push it open, and potentially walk out of my life forever. "Fucking admit that you want me. You don't even have to fuck me… Just admit that you want me, Liam. Please. Admit it, and then I'll leave you alone forever if that's what you want…"

Liam's hand tightened into a fist. "You know that's not what I want, Iana…"

"Then fucking admit it," I told him. "Fucking admit what you do want…"

Liam turned around and faced me then, his silver eyes filled with torture and hesitation, intermingled with the heady sensation of desire. He merely stood there for a moment, almost as if he was amazed that I wasn't running away from him, and his eyebrows raised suddenly as I bit down, hard, on my lower lip. Finally, almost as if he'd reached his breaking point, he turned away from me then, shoving open the back door of the diner, which slammed behind him, the cold air of the night momentarily blasting me for a moment.

Immediately, I took a half-step forward towards the door, the tears frozen in my eyes, my confidence gone, stripped away from me then, in those seconds. My hand was raised slightly then to pull him back to me, but, of course, now that he was gone, the point was moot. "Liam," I said then, my voice ragged as it forced its way out from between my lips.

I turned away from the door then, stumbling towards the dining room of the restaurant, wanting to break something, anything. How had this man, one I'd only met three times, including twice that day, have such an affect on me? I didn't understand it, and probably never would… And it was the telltale squeak of the door from behind me that caused me to look up, and there he was again, staring at me from the edge of the threshold. I felt my mouth fall open then at the notion that he'd come back, and as I stood there, he came towards me then, and I lashed out, not knowing where my actions came from…

"Why would you fucking leave?!" I shouted at him then, punching him as hard as I could on his chest, making no moves to stop, the sensation of his muscled chest not lost on me as he tried to grab at my wrists, to stop my attack. "Why wouldn't you just fucking walk out like that?! Why would you—?!"

"Iana, please…"

I sighed, not knowing what else to do then, and so I did the only thing I knew how—I had to use my body to get what I wanted. It worked before, so why shouldn't it now? Without a moment's hesitation, I dropped down to my knees in front of him then, retching my wrists from his grasp as I yanked the zipper of his high-class jeans down, before I unbuckled his belt and yanked down his pants to his knees. I could sense that Liam was shocked by my actions, but he made no move to stop me as I pulled down his boxers, tears blurring my vision slightly as I found him within, and gasped aloud when I saw how ready he was for me.

"Iana…"

I knew I could no longer stand it, so I promptly took him into my mouth, knowing that I couldn't bear not being physical with him any longer. Once he passed through my lips, he stiffened against me, placing his hands against my shoulders, gently guiding me back and forth, matching my movements to a speed he liked. He continued stiffening around my lips, and I knew I'd be smirking if my mouth wasn't otherwise engaged…

"Fuck," he said then, and yanked me upwards before I could finish.

"Liam, what are you—?!"

My words ceased then, becoming a moan which became lost in his mouth, and I wrapped my arms around him then, molding my body perfectly against his. After a moment, not wanting to lose any momentum, I unhooked my arms from around his neck and dragged down my pants, ready and waiting to receive him. He didn't protest, or push me away; no, he kept me firmly in his arms, although we mutually gasped as he entered me then, and I wound my legs up and around his torso, urging him deeper inside me, and felt the sensation of my eyes rolling backwards in my head at the bodily feelings he evoked from me…

"Iana…"

"What?" I whispered, a groan escaping my lips as he pushed me against the wall, managing to slip even further inside me.

"We can't...tell anyone…"

I leaned forward then, capturing his lips with mine once more, needing another taste of him before I pulled away then. "My lips are sealed," I replied, my voice ragged once again, and he smiled, slamming into me further this time, as I kept my arms wrapped tightly around him to prevent him from changing his mind again.


	5. Moving In and Out

Chapter Five: Moving In and Out

My eyes sprang open then, just as a trickle of silvery light of dawn came into the dining area of Patsy's, and I immediately sat up then, looking around. Somehow, I'd managed to pull my panties, bra, and top back on, but my jeans lay in a heap across the room of the employee locker room, and I felt my cheeks flushing. Slowly getting to my feet, I crossed the room and picked them up, stepping into them, which wasn't an easy task, due to my sneakers attempting to hinder the process. I reached into my pocket then, relieved that my phone had no damage to it, and seeing that it was close to six, and my heart thudded in my chest then, knowing that Mom would likely be there in two hours to unlock the place.

Turning around, I saw Liam lying there on the floor, and my knees threatened to give way at the sight of him, in nothing but his boxers and black socks. Biting down hard on my lower lip, I made my way towards him then and knelt down, the floor cooling to my knees, despite them being covered in denim, and ran my hand carefully through his hair, which was slightly floppy, due to the romp we'd had, just hours before. My fingertips migrated from his hair down to his forehead, and I marveled at just how soft his skin was.

"Liam," I whispered, leaning down and pressing my lips to where my fingertips lingered. "It's close to six o'clock. We fell asleep. My mom'll be along in a couple hours to unlock this place for the breakfast rush."

Liam moaned slightly then, before opening his eyes and pulling me down beside him, making no moves to ready himself to run. He ran his strong hand over my cheek, and I flushed at the intimacy that one look could hold. "Good morning," he said.

I felt my lips automatically lifting in a smile; nobody had ever made me feel as good as Liam had, and the aches I felt all over were simply incredible. I remembered him slamming me repeatedly against the wall, before dragging me down to the floor, pawing at me, his lips touching every surface of my body available to him, taking me to the very precipice that I'd always heard about, but never knew existed. "Good morning," I said quietly to him, a slight gasp escaping my lips when he leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine.

Liam seemed to savor the moment, leaning down and brushing his lips with mine, before he suddenly stiffened and sat up, not bringing me up with him. "What time did you say it was, Iana?" he asked.

I blinked, the sudden jolt of formality replacing intimacy jarring to me, and slowly moved to sit up as well. I drew my knees down, so that my legs were stretched out completely, thus giving me easier access to my pocket, where I'd returned my cell phone. "It's just six," I replied. "My mom doesn't open the doors on Saturdays and Sundays until eight. Trust me, it's all okay," I told him, shocked as he stood up completely then, and made a grab for his pants, yanking them on like there was no tomorrow. "Hey, hey," I said, getting to my feet then, raising my eyebrows as he pulled on his shirt, buttoning it hastily, and missing the holes entirely. "Stop. Let me," I told him, my voice deliberately gentle as I stepped forward, moving his hands aside. Carefully, I made sure that each button was in place before I dropped my hands and looked up at him, trying to get a read on his expression. "Hey," I said, reaching up and putting my palm onto his cheek. "What's going on? Is something wrong? You can tell me…"

"What's wrong?" Liam asked, scoffing then, breaking away from me then and dragging a hand through his hair, before he bent down and made a grab for his shoes, leaning his perfect ass up against the set of lockers behind him and doing his best to get them on and tie them quickly. "I fucking broke the law, Iana. How could you possibly ask me what's wrong?"

"I gave consent," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted you… Didn't you want me?"

Liam sighed then, finishing up his shoe-tying, and allowed his shoulders to slack. "Christ, Iana," he said, squeezing his eyes shut and dragging his hand down his face. "You know that wasn't what I meant…"

"Then what did you mean?" I cried out then, trying and failing to keep my voice from shaking as he raised his eyes to mine. "Tell me what you meant…"

"You've got to understand, Iana, that there are more complicated things at play here," he said, almost as if he was trying to calm me down.

"What's so fucking complicated?!" I demanded.

"Iana, I'm CEO of a fucking multi-million-dollar cooperation," Liam said, looking at me as if I had three heads. "How do you think any of this this would look if the press or the authorities got wind of it somehow? Sure, I've got a huge team of lawyers that have represented the Kennedy family for generations, but I could be charged with sexual misconduct, or harassment, or statutory rape…"

"I already told you, the authorities aren't going to hear a goddamn thing from me," I said, doing my best to keep calm. "You have nothing to worry about."

Liam shook his head. "None of this is that easy, Iana…"

"What are you so afraid of?"

Immediately, his eyes snapped to mine. "What?"

I didn't move from where I stood, and kept my arms crossed around myself, each hand gripping the opposite arm, as I literally attempted to hold myself together. "You heard me," I replied, and felt relieved when my voice didn't tremble.

"What am I afraid of?"

I nodded; the movement was stiff. I didn't want any emotions to attempt to filter into my voice. I had been hurt by the opposite sex before, and I was not about to be burned again. "Yeah," I replied, no emotion behind my tone.

"Getting caught?" he asked, spreading his hands.

I scoffed then, shaking my head at his apparent stupidity. "If you were so worried about getting caught, then why the fuck would you come back in here last night, after I told you what I wanted?" I demanded. "I mean, I'm plenty strong, but you look as if you could bench a couple hundred pounds. You could've shoved me off you and run again, but you didn't. You didn't push me away last night, and yet, you're doing it right now…"

"Iana, please…"

I shook my head at him. "No, Liam, you please!" I cried out. "You fucking left, and then you came back, and I just couldn't…"

"Couldn't what?" he asked.

I looked away from him. "Nothing."

"See, this is exactly why I didn't want to do this," Liam said, and his voice cut me to the very core. "Teenagers constantly say one thing when they mean another or some shit… You're not old enough to make life-altering decisions, and so you act impulsively, thinking you know what you want, and then adults get dragged into the drama, and then there's no escape. They think there's something hidden beneath the surface, but there's nothing. Nothing but childish decision-making that only ends up getting people hurt, and making decisions that everyone ends up regretting in the morning…"

My eyes snapped to his. "Did you just say you regretted what happened?"

Liam shrugged. "I don't fucking know anymore, Iana. I don't know a fucking thing anymore, because, apparently, I'm totally delusional for letting a teenager get to me…"

I shook my head at him. "I can't believe you just said that…"

He sighed. "Maybe it's for the best. It's not like it'll be a memorable night for you in the first place, will it?"

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?!"

"You implied that you've done it before…"

"Yeah? So?! Does that make me a fucking slut, or something?!"

Liam shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant…"

"Then what did you mean?" I demanded, and I couldn't get the rage to leave my voice. "You're saying you regret it and that somehow I won't find last night memorable… Are you saying this because I've fucked people before?!"

"That's not fair, Iana…"

"No, it's not fair," I replied bitterly. "Lucky me that you're not the first person I've fucked in here, but you'll sure as hell be the last. Far too cramped back here, I feel. Maybe I'll just invite people over to my house, and into my bed. Then it'll really make the nights memorable, keeping all my conquests in one place…"

"Don't say that," Liam replied, his jaw setting.

"Maybe it's for the best," I told him, narrowing my eyes at him. "How am I supposed to know that last night really meant a goddamn thing to you, anyway? It probably didn't. A man like you could have a supermodel on his arm one week and a fucking ambassador the next. The last thing you want is to remember some indecisive teenager from the South Side that you only fucked to get another notch on your belt…"

"That's not what this was, Iana," Liam said firmly. "You've got to believe that."

"I'm not about to believe another goddamn thing," I told him, walking past him and deliberately hitting his arm with my shoulder as I passed. Why'd he have to be so fucking tall…?!

"Iana…"

"You know what?" I asked, turning around to face him again, my voice cracking in my throat then, as I tried and failed to stop the tears from leaving my eyes. "I really thought last night was going to be different. But you men are all the same, really. I wish it wasn't true, but it is. You meet someone and if they're fucked other people, they're automatically a slut. Sure, I've been around the block a few dozen times in the past two years or so, no strings attached, no emotions whatsoever, but that's all I know," I told him, knowing that I didn't have to tell him the details, but I just couldn't keep myself from allowing the words to spill from my lips. "Sure, I don't discriminate between men and women, but the real reason is because I wanted to experience every little thing there was out there. Just because I have no plans to settle down in my life doesn't mean I don't think I deserve a little fun. But that's all this was, wasn't it, Liam? A little fun. Fucking a fucking ghetto teenager… Must be some sort of sick bucket list you millionaires have, right?"

"Jesus, Iana. Why do you have to be this way?"

"If you're inferring that I'm a fucking cunt, you'd be right. Runs in the family," I told him.

Liam shook his head. "Guess you're just the same as all the teenagers out there from the wrong side of the tracks…"

I shook my head at him then, reaching upwards and slapping him across the face, angered when he showed no reaction whatsoever. "Fuck you, Liam Kennedy," I told him, malice dripping from my voice as I moved to leave.

"Was I right?" he asked. "Are you like all the teenagers?"

I faced him once again, and reached up to smack him again, but, this time, Liam caught my wrist and held it there, never breaking eye contact with me. "Don't you fucking…"

"What?" Liam demanded. "Don't do what?"

"You know what…"

"Obviously, I wouldn't know," Liam said, repeating my same words from last night, which sent delicious chills down my spine, "so I had to ask."

I felt my breath catching in my throat then as I stared up at him. My mouth went dry then, and my lips parted. I wanted nothing more to yell, to scream at Liam in a rage for what he was doing to me, but no words left my lips. And then, like lightning, Liam made a grab for me then, and I immediately wrapped myself in his arms again, the sensations, both emotional and physical, were beyond anything I could've imagined. His lips found mine almost instantly, and we devoured one another, never wanting to let the other go, but it was then that reality came to call, and I tore myself away from him, blinded by my own tears.

"Fuck you, Kennedy," I told him, shaking my head as I stumbled out the back door, got into my car, and drove off as the sun rose around me.

I did my best to focus on the road, but no such fortune was awarded to me more than necessary as I continued to drive home, the tears constantly blinding my vision. As I pulled up outside the house, pulling the keys from my ignition, I saw my parents in the living room together, and they seemed completely unaware that one of their children was missing. Shaking my head, I got out of my car and promptly walked across the street without hesitation, finding my key without a problem and unlocked the door, slamming it behind me. I walked through the living room and into the kitchen, opening up the fridge and staring at the abundance of beer bottles on the main shelf of the fridge, and just looked at the beautiful amber color within the glass.

"Kiddo?"

I gasped then, unhearing prior to the word that escaped from the familiar presence behind me as I shut the door to the fridge. I turned around then, and saw my father, my pops, just standing there, looking confused as hell as to why I was there so early. It only took a moment for the confusion to be replaced by rage, as he could tell when I was worked up like this that either I'd done something stupid, or someone had upset me. He usually guessed right, and today would be no exception to that rule.

"Who the fuck hurt you?!" he demanded. If there were two things Mickey Milkovich hated, it was someone hurting his family, or making him feel bad about his sexuality. "Say the word, kiddo, and I'll…"

"Dad, no!" I cried out then, the endearment escaping my lips before I could call it back, and ran towards him then, throwing myself into his arms. "You could violate parole or some shit, and then I… I can't have you going back there," I said, my voice shaking as we stood there in the kitchen, just holding one another.

However, he pushed me back after a moment, looking at me as if for the first time. He held my face for a moment, staring into my eyes, before he tilted my head downwards, pressing his lips briefly to my forehead. "You've never called me 'Dad' before…"

"You _are_ my dad," I told him, my voice continuing to tremble. "You're my fucking dad. I'm so lucky to have a dad who cares so much…"

"What can I do?" he asked me then, his tone quiet. "If I can do anything, Iana…"

"God, I wish it were that simple…"

"Name it," he told me firmly. "Ian and I will do anything for you. You know that. You and him, you guys are my fucking family. Everyone else is, too, but you two… I think I'd only die for you, Ian, and Mandy. That's it."

I rested my head on his shoulder then; we were close in height, my father and I, which had always made things easier. "I'd die for you, too…"

"I don't want you dying, Iana."

I laughed aloud then. "Has to happen sometime…"

"Now," he said, bringing me over to the table and sitting me down, before moving to sit directly next to me. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

I swallowed then. "Remember the speaker at my graduation yesterday?"

He laughed. "Yeah. Good-looking guy… Why?"

"He came to the diner before that," I replied. "I got him a coffee refill and a slice of cherry pie and he and I…"

He raised his eyebrows. "You…?"

"May have exchanged some flirtatious banter, and he left me a huge tip, and his business card with a phone number…"

Pops looked concerned. "Kiddo, he's twenty-one…"

I nodded. "I know how old he is. He made it clear that he had no idea how old I really was when he first met me, and that, even though he was interested, he was going to wait for two years for me to turn eighteen…"

"Let me guess. You didn't wait."

My eyes snapped to his. "How did you know?"

"You're half Gallagher, half Milkovich. Trust me. I know."

"I just… Couldn't stop, I guess," I told him, biting down hard on my lower lip. "After we got the boys home last night, I called him up and met up at Patsy's…"

"So, that's why you're wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and looked like you spent the night having sex before you slept on a floor…"

I made a face. "Jesus, Pops. Call it 'fucking'. I'm sixteen, not six."

Pops tried not to laugh at my statement before he continued, "Be that as it may, Iana, I know you're prone to be reckless, due to being a teenager and constantly given all these privileges because you were so far advanced educationally, and god knows you didn't get that from my side of the family… All I'm saying is, I want you to be careful."

I sighed. "Trying to be…"

"Good," he replied. "So, are you going to see him again?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"What? You like this guy, don't you?"

I made a face like I was going to vomit and shook my head. "Pops, that's not me and you know it, deep down."

"What's not you, kid?"

"You know the whole white picket fence, husband, two-point-five kids…" I shuddered. "So not me. You know it, and I know it."

Pops looked off into space then, towards the staircase where, somewhere, Uncle Ian had to have been still asleep. "I was the same way until your uncle Ian…"

"Yeah?" I asked, leaning backwards in my chair and crossing my arms. "What changed?"

Pops turned and looked at me with a small smile. "We fell in love," he replied.

. . .

 _Love. Love was never something I never thought would be in the cards for me. After things went down with Principal Monroe, I moved on to public high school with a sense of trepidation, after one final year of eighth grade. I thought high school would be better; naturally, I assumed such a thing because I'd finally be away from Principal Monroe, and a shit ton of trust fund babies that I'd been subjected to over the years. Now, I'd be with my own kind, so to speak; kids from my neighborhood that I'd seen around town but had never spoken to. With Franny there, I knew that she'd have my back, no matter what it took…_

" _Hey, it's okay," she assured me for what must've been the trillionth time on that first day of freshman year. "I've got your back. And that upperclassman Miranda Hayworth has been assigned as your buddy. You don't have anything to worry about."_

 _I shrugged, staring at myself in the mirror. My black denim shorts and simple black T-shirt were all in place, plus my scuffed Converse were all tied appropriately. I'd put my hair into a side ponytail, similar to Franny's, and bit down hard on my lower lip. I was only thirteen to Franny's fifteen, and all I could think about was running for the hills…_

" _This is not going to be like that sorry excuse for a private school," Franny told me, her voice firm as they interrupted my nervous thoughts. "All our family went to this high school. It's not like they don't know who we Gallagher's are…"_

 _I rolled my eyes. "Sure, if you say so…"_

 _We headed downstairs shortly thereafter; Franny had spent the night the previous evening, and Aunt Debbie would be picking us up for school in twenty minutes or so. My parents were in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready, as Franny and I stepped inside, we immediately had both of their attention. I plastered a smile onto my lips, accepting their hugs, and watching as they both hugged Franny as well._

" _What's for breakfast, Aunt Murphy?" Franny asked._

" _First day of school pancakes, sausage, and scrambled eggs," Mom replied._

 _I rolled my eyebrows. "Jeez, Mom. You really went all-out, didn't you?"_

" _You should thank your mother," Dad put in, putting his arms around my mother's waist and pulling her against him, causing my mother to let out a small squeal of surprise. "She does a lot for her family, you know."_

" _Aaah, too much!" Franny cried out._

" _I second that!" I said, turning my face away and trooping over to the table, Franny at my heels, whereupon we both sat down._

 _My mother scoffed then, and began serving up breakfast with Dad. "I'm surprised at you, Iana," she scolded me gently._

" _What do you mean?" I asked._

 _She shrugged. "Well, I mean, you don't seem to care when your Uncle Ian or Mickey show public displays of affection…"_

" _They're sweet," Franny puts in._

" _That's why!" I cried out, pointing at Franny._

" _Hon, cut her some slack," Dad cut in, kissing Mom on the cheek. "We have a teenager on our hands, officially now. Besides, you know as well as I do that Mick is never one for witnessing affection, or receiving it. She's just like her father."_

" _Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad," I muttered, spearing a couple of pancakes and bringing them onto my plate._

 _Aunt Debbie arrived on time, and dropped off Franny and me in the parking lot of the high school, and I found the nerves threatening to overtake me again. We still had a good fifteen minutes before we were due to meet our upperclassmen buddies, so Franny and I pulled out the copies of the school map and our schedules. I pondered the list before me: Algebra, physical science, English, Social Studies, Spanish, and drama._

" _Feeling okay?"_

 _I raised my eyes to Franny's, about to answer, when my mouth suddenly went dry. The trio of them came from the direction of the football field, and were all dressed up in their uniforms. It didn't take more than a handful of seconds for my knees to go weak, and my subconscious to turn entirely to mud. I was vaguely aware of Franny's eyes turning, following my gaze where it came to rest on the handful of jocks I was staring at._

" _Oh," she said, almost as if she had it all figured out._

 _My face flushed then at the condemning nature of her tone, and immediately lowered my eyes back down to my schedule. "It's nothing," I assured her._

 _Franny sighed, but then she decided to play along. "Which one?"_

 _My eyes immediately snapped to hers. "What?"_

" _Which one were you looking at?"_

" _The… The one in the middle," I said, my face flushing further as I raised my eyes once more to him, where he was talking to two of his football buddies. I was captivated by his chestnut-brown hair, as well as the deep green eyes that you could become lost in…_

" _That's Colin," Franny explained. "Senior. Football captain."_

 _I swallowed then, knowing full well that Colin would never, under any circumstances, have anything to do with a freshman like me. "Oh…"_

" _What's with the face?" Franny asked, looking me up and down._

 _I let out an incomprehensive sound as I turned and looked at Franny. "What?"_

 _She smirked. "Come on. You were clearly ogling Colin…"_

 _I scoffed. "Yeah. Right. Me ogling the opposite sex," I said, shaking my head and pulling her towards the main doors. "Let's just get inside for the next chapter of this nightmare…"_

" _You mean high school?" Franny asked._

" _Same difference," I replied._

. . .

The following day was Sunday, which was the day that Uncle Ian and Pops had everyone over for dinner. Well, everyone who could make it; that day it was all four of my parents, Clayton and Fionn, me, Uncle Lip and Mandy. Uncle Carl had taken his wife and kids on an impromptu weekend trip, while Carla and Charlie were at our grandparents' house again. Uncle Liam was on an assignment for the tech company he worked for in Los Angeles, while Frank was just loitering outside somewhere, hoping to be let in. Aunt Fiona and Uncle Jimmy were going to try and video chat with us at some point to touch base, and Aunt Debbie, Franny, and Ezra were on their way to the gathering.

"Feeling okay?"

"Hmmm?" I asked, barely moving from where I sat beside Pops at the kitchen table, due to be moved into the living room to accommodate everyone, as I rested my head on his shoulder. "I'm okay, I guess…"

"Talk to that guy of yours? Liam somebody?"

I scoffed, making gagging noises, and I could feel Pops chuckling at my reaction. "No, and I'm not planning to."

"You seemed really affected by whatever it was he did to you…"

I shrugged, sitting up then and spotting my mother in the living room, where she was hanging out with Dad and talking to the boys. Casually, I reached out then and took Pops's beer, drinking a quick sip before I put it back. "What's to say? It's in the past…"

"What's in the past?" Mandy asked, stepping inside, a waft of smoke coming after her, as she plunked down beside me. "Lip's having another," she explained, her dark eyes shining as she uttered the name of my oldest uncle.

"Me fucking a guy too old for me," I muttered, loud enough for Uncle Ian to hear, but too quiet for Mom, Dad, or the boys to.

Uncle Ian's head immediately snapped up. "Wait. You did what?"

"Calm down, Fire Crotch," Pops said immediately, getting to his feet and crossing over to my uncle, and ran his hands up and down his arms. "It's all okay…"

"Not now, Mick," Uncle Ian said firmly, crossing back over to the table, Pops at his heels, and staring down at me. "What the fuck was that about, Iana?!"

"Christ, it's so not a big deal!" I hissed, peering around him, watching as my parents continued to have a conversation with Clayton and Fionn.

"How old was this guy?!"

"Twenty-fucking-one—who gives a shit?!" I demanded, getting to my feet as I saw my mother gesturing with her hands. "Oh, shit…"

"How the fuck could you let Clayton drink?!" she practically screamed at Fionn. "You're both thirteen-years-old! What were you thinking?!"

"Goddammit," I said, dragging my hands through my hair as I walked around the table, and into the living room. "You need to stop it," I said, narrowing my eyes at my mother.

My mother whipped around to face me then. "You fucking knew about this shit, Iana!" she yelled, her anger now directed towards me. "How could you not tell us?!"

"Because Fionn fucking called me!" I yelled back. "And do you know why he did? Because he's my son just as much as he is yours!"

"Don't you dare disrespect your mother, Iana!" Dad said, narrowing his eyes at me. "I won't have you speaking to her that way."

"Cry me a fucking river," I said, turning on him. "You know as well as I do that you could've stayed and fought the system, but you were ruled by your fucking dick and just let Mom tell you to run away!"

"That's not how it—!"

"Don't you fucking tell me how it happened!" I shouted, locking my eyes with hers. "You were so busy telling him goodbye and giving him a farewell fuck that you didn't take two seconds to even consider how any of us would be affected! You let Dad leave, then you hooked up with fucking Tommy, and then you fucking abandoned us—"

"That's not how it went down, Iana. I told you that—"

"I don't give a fuck if it was to clear your husband's name or not!" I screamed. "Bottom line, you gave us to Uncle Ian, who did a fantastic job. Sure, he couldn't be there all the time, and Uncle Liam was so busy partying in those days that it was left to me. I was five-years-old, Mom—five, and raising two kids. Did you ever think that I actually had a damn good reason to be fucking resentful of you for all these years?! Not even a thank you. Not one. And now that Dad's back and you're both working, who takes the kids when you're not around, or if Grandpa Hugo and Grandma Allie aren't available? Besides every Gallagher you can imagine," I said, my voice shaking then. "Me. It's always been me. These boys are my sons, too. I do so much for them, guys, and even though I don't expect shit in return, it'd be nice to get a little acknowledgement now and again for doing your fucking job!"

"I don't have to stand here and listen to this," Mom said.

I crossed my arms. "Maybe you should," I replied. "Although, if it were me, I would've listened to all this a long time ago."

My mother's eyes blazed with anger then as she stepped forward, and hit me as hard as she could across the face.

"Fuck you!" I screamed at her, itching to it her back, but made no move to do so.

Dad's eyes darkened then as he stepped around Mom and glowered down at me. "I told you not—" he began, raising his hand into a fist.

"Not today," came a voice from behind me, and I was shocked when Pops blitzed forward and made a grab for Dad, knocking him backwards and into the armchair. "If I still had any fucking rights, I'd ask the courts to reverse the adoption," he growled. "Nobody hits my fucking kid and gets away with it."

"Mick, get the fuck off of him!" Mom cried out then, and Pops does so, moving to stand beside me as a guard might. "Come on," she said, helping Dad up before she looks from me, to Clayton, to Fionn. "Time to go."

"You don't have to," Pops said.

"Uncle Ian?" I asked, turning around to face him.

My uncle shook his head, crossing over to me and standing on my other side. "She doesn't have to leave if she doesn't want to."

My mother looked shocked at this turn of events then, and stared imploringly up at Uncle Ian then, her dark eyes pleading. "Ian…"

"Save it," he said firmly. "Mickey and I will be over tomorrow morning to get her things. Iana's staying with us for a while."

My parents said nothing as they dragged the boys out of there, and I felt like pieces of myself were walking out the door. I said nothing, breaking away from Pops and Uncle Ian for a moment, staring out the window and watching as they all trooped across the street and returned to the house we all lived in. Biting my lip, I slowly turned around and towards the staircase, saying nothing, as I trudged upstairs, to the bedroom I often crashed in after a late night, and where I'd slept when the boys and I were temporarily living there. Even though I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, I climbed onto the bed, and just stared at the ceiling, arms over my chest, listening to the voices of my family as they crept through the old house.

. . .

 _I didn't know what it was about me but, for some reason, Colin, the football captain and the high school's "it-guy" randomly spoke to me one afternoon while I was in the library, studying for an algebra exam. Math and I had never been friends, and as I struggled with the take-home practice test we'd been ordered by Mr. Hernandez to complete, Colin suddenly arrived in my midst. He smiled and sat beside me, and initiated conversation._

 _In the end, he agreed to help me with my algebra, and it was after a few sessions of tutoring that he invited me to the homecoming game. I thought it was purely about school spirit, but when Colin told me that he wanted me to be his date to the dance afterwards, I eagerly accepted. He was seventeen to my thirteen, so it was completely taboo, I knew that, but I was so over the moon about it that I didn't care._

 _On the night of the dance, I had my new dress on and everything in place. I cheered louder than anyone in the student body did that night for the team, and for Colin. When the game was over, Colin met me outside the gym as arranged, and we headed inside together. We danced to the awesome playlist the DJ had for us that night, and I heeded his advice not to taste the punch, as it was likely to be spiked. Even though I was a drinker, and a smoker, I wanted to at least appear like a good girl to Colin, so I listened to him._

" _It's pretty loud in here," Colin said during the lull between songs._

 _I nodded at him. "Yeah."_

" _Wanna go outside for a walk?" he asked._

" _Sure," I replied._

 _We stepped out through the gym doors, after making our way through the crowd, taking in the beautiful moonlight through the trees. Most of our discussions surrounded algebra and football, with Colin explaining both to me. However, I could see in his expression that Colin wanted us to open up to one another, and I did not object to that._

" _Have any siblings?" he wanted to know._

 _I nodded. "Yeah. One older half-brother, and then younger twin half-brothers, a half-sister, and then another half-brother."_

 _Colin raised his eyebrows. "No full siblings?" he asked, not unkindly._

 _I shook my head. "No. My mom… Well, I was an accident," I replied._

" _An accident?"_

" _Yeah. She and the guy were drunk at the time."_

" _Oh, my god. I'm sorry to hear that."_

 _I laughed a little then. "Don't be. I have three dads now, so…"_

" _Three?"_

" _Yeah," I replied. "My uncle, my mom's twin brother, is married to my biological father," I told him carefully. "And then my mom's husband adopted me. My uncle also helped raise me, so then three fathers…"_

" _You ever think about the future?"_

" _What, like graduation and college and a job?"_

" _Sure, that," Colin said. "Or a family. Kids."_

 _I shook my head. "I'm thirteen," I said with a laugh. "Not really ready to even entertain any thoughts like that…"_

" _Have you ever hooked up?"_

Whoa, personal much _, I thought to myself. "I was raped almost a year ago," I replied. "It's not something I really like talking about…"_

" _It can be fun. Sex. Not rape."_

 _I felt my fingers knotting around themselves then as my heart hammered in my chest. "Yeah, so I've heard…" I broke off then, wanting to get to other topics. "What about you? Do you have any siblings?"_

" _Two younger sisters," Colin replied._

" _What do your parents do?"_

" _Dad's in prison," Colin replied. "Mom's a teacher."_

" _I'm sorry, about your dad," I replied._

 _Colin shrugged. "Shit happens."_

" _Why'd he get locked up?" I ask._

" _Assault," he said quietly. "I don't know much about it."_

 _I nodded. "Might be better that way…"_

 _Colin turned towards me then, and just stared at me. "You're really pretty."_

 _I blinked. "Thank you."_

" _I saw you staring at me on that first day."_

Dammit _, I thought to myself._ You really need to work on being more subtle when it comes to checking people out… " _Did you?"_

" _Yeah," he said. Colin continued staring at me for a moment then, before walking towards me, causing me to hit the side of the building as I attempted to get space from him. "I thought it was cool, a little freshman like you… I like a challenge."_

" _A challenge?" I asked._

" _Sure," he replied, leaning down and kissing me._

This isn't right _, I thought to myself then, and gently pushed him off. "Colin, don't. We shouldn't be doing this…"_

 _Colin rolled his eyes. "Everyone hooks up at high school dances, Iana…"_

 _I shook my head. "Not me. I'm not that kind of girl."_

 _Colin narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm the football captain…"_

" _Doesn't matter," I replied. "I'm saying 'no'."_

" _People in my family don't take 'no' for an answer," he said firmly._

 _I snapped my eyes to his then and, in that moment, I saw Principal Monroe glaring down at me, as he had done that night in the diner, and my mouth fell open. "You're…"_

 _Colin grinned evilly then, before he reached out and squeezed my breasts as hard as he could. "I see you've figured me out?"_

" _Don't touch me," I said, shoving him off me. "Don't ever touch me…"_

 _Colin looked as if he would grab me again, but ultimately shook his head. "You're not even worth it," he growled, turning and walking back into the gym._

 _I leaned back against the building then, my heart pounding in my ears, wondering how I could have been so wrong about a person…_

. . .

I stayed with Pops and Uncle Ian for a few days, before ultimately deciding to face the music and return back home, which they fully supported. It was as if my family and I were walking on eggshells for the next four days, until I finally had a day off from the diner, which I'd already booked to help Uncle Lip and Mandy. They'd had an announcement the previous Sunday, and had informed Uncle Ian and Pops, who subsequently told me, that they would be moving in together. Normally, I'd say such a thing was pretty fast, but it didn't matter to me; all in all, I found the entire arrangement really sweet.

"Doing okay?" Uncle Lip asked as I trekked inside Mandy's apartment, carrying yet another box of his.

"Yeah," I replied, "managing, thankfully… Where do you want this one?"

"Here, I got it," Uncle Lip said, stepping forward and taking the box, before placing it beside the window in the living room.

"I'm glad you guys are back on," I said softly.

Uncle Lip turned to me and smiled. "Oh, yeah?"

I nodded. "Yeah, of course. Sometimes, even though it might not seem right at the time, in the end, you can find your way back to that person…"

"Just wish I could've known then, you know?"

"You probably weren't ready to know," I said gently, moving towards the door to go and get another box of Uncle Lip's from the truck downstairs. "The point is, you found your way back to Mandy, and you're together now."

"Think it's gonna happen for you?"

I turned around then, eyeing Uncle Lip. "What'll happen for me?"

"You know… A permanent relationship. Kids."

I scoffed then, trying to forget when Colin had said the same thing to me. "Oh, probably not. I never really wanted…" I gestured wildly with my hands then. "...all that."

Uncle Lip smiled. "You sure?"

I nodded. "Positive," I said, feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, and took it out. "Oh, dammit," I said.

"What's up?"

"Oh, my mom had to close down the diner today for some deep cleaning later on tonight," I told him, dragging a hand through my hair. "I have to go down there and make sure the locker room is tidied up, and clean out my locker…" I let out a sigh of exasperation then, for I'd promised to be there for Uncle Lip and Mandy that day.

"Hey, that's your job," Uncle Lip said firmly as I raised my eyes to his. "You've been here almost three hours already; cut yourself some slack and get outta here."

I laughed then, crossing back over to him and hugging him. "You're amazing," I told him. "I'll come by soon, okay?"

"You're always welcome," Uncle Lip replied.

"Love you!" I called.

"Love you, too, Iana!" he called back as I ran out into the hallway and towards the elevator, and texted my mom, letting her know I was on my way and I had my key.

I sent a text to Uncle Ian, Pops, and Mandy next, who were out for a coffee run, and told them about the minor emergency and how I had to leave. I reiterated to Mandy that I'd be over to help soon, and Mandy seemed pleased at the promise. Once I got downstairs, I headed directly for my car, getting inside and slamming the door behind me. I buckled up and put my phone into its car charging port, before driving down the street and towards the diner. I made it there quickly and parked in back in one of the vacant spots, grabbing my slightly-charged phone and letting myself in the back door and grabbing a broom, where I would sweep out the area before the heavy-duty mops came that night.

Once I finished sweeping, I found the dustpan and drove the bunnies into the trash, before picking up the duster and getting the slightly-hard-to-reach spots around the room. Finally, I opened up my locker then and began sorting the shit inside. I always kept parts of work appropriate clothes in there, but I knew they were due for a washing, so I folded them up and put them into my duffel, on the floor of my locker, ready to take them home. There was also some trash littering my locker, which I quickly disposed of, before dusting out the metal surface. It was then that I felt my phone buzzing again, and I took it out of my pocket, seeing a familiar number staring at me, causing my knees to go weak and my heart to pound.

 _Was driving by and saw your car_. _Coming in any second_. _We need to talk_.

Just as I read the words, the back door opened, and my mouth fell open when I saw Liam standing there, and I did my best to keep my cool. "What are you doing here?" I asked him, relieved that my voice didn't shake.

Liam sighed. "I said we needed to talk."

"Talking is _so_ overrated," I replied, gathering my things and attempting to brush past him. "I'm through with you, Liam. I thought I made that clear…"

"Look, Iana, I came to apologize," he replied, and I stopped dead in my tracks, but I refused to allow myself to turn around and look at him. "I can't tell you everything, because there are other people involved here, and it's fucking dangerous. But I will say that my reaction was less-than-savory that day. I wish I could take it back…"

"I know," I replied, my lower lip trembling as the hot tears threatened to escape my eyes. "You made that abundantly clear the other day…"

"Jesus, Iana," he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly at the end. "That's not what I regret, once and for all. I don't regret what we did; I regret the consequences that could happen if it was found out…"

"What? Like your fucking empire? Your family's good name?" I asked bitterly.

"My freedom," he replied, and I shut my eyes, knowing that freedom could not always be taken for granted, and hating myself for sounding so bitter a moment ago. "And then there's my mother and younger sister to consider. I love them more than anything, Iana, and the last thing I'd want is to see them hurt…"

"No," I said, acknowledging that. "I understand, really…"

"I don't think you do, fully," Liam replied then, and placed his hand gently upon my shoulder, and I gasped and stiffened immediately at his touch. "I hate hurting people I care about. There aren't many, I'll be up-front about that, but… I do care about you."

"No, you don't…" I whispered, brokenly.

"I do care," he told me, his voice firm as he turned me around, and my eyes snapped open at the prospect of gazing at him again. "I do care, Iana."

"I'm sorry," I said then, my voice shaking, "if I forced you into anything…"

Liam shook his head. "You didn't force me. I should have never implied that you did. I was just as culpable in what we did as you were."

I nodded. "I'm glad. I wouldn't have wanted you to...not enjoy yourself or to regret…"

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I could've phrased myself better. No wonder you thought I regretted what happened between us. I'm sorry…"

"Thank you."

"I promise, I'll never act that way again…"

My eyes snapped to his. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I can't get that night out of my head," he replied. "I just…"

"You really don't regret it, do you?" I asked, slightly loathing myself for sounding so goddamned melodramatic, all because of a guy.

Liam shook his head. "I don't," he assured me. "I don't regret it."

"So, what does…?" I asked, questioning him.

He smiled down at me. "It means, whatever you want, I'm down for…"

No sooner did those words escape his lips then I dropped the duffel I was holding, a literal barrier between us, onto the floor, and kicked it away. I latched onto Liam then, anchoring my mouth to his, a sharp breath escaping his throat as our lips mutually parted to meet the others wanting mouth. There was no hesitation, no back and forth that time, as I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, and he with the zipper of my jeans. My hands dove down then, unzipping his own jeans as quickly as I did, and we mutually yanked down our bottoms. Liam lifted me then, and I drew my legs around his torso, digging my heels into his perfect ass, allowing him easy access into me, the gasp that escaped my lips one of absolute pleasure, pleasure that I never wanted to end…

. . .

A little over a week had passed, and July had officially begun, and hot summer weather was now in fully swing. It had been nine days since Liam and I had come to our understanding at Patsy's, and he'd even snuck over to my bedroom on a few of those nights. My parents were either none the wiser, or they just didn't see it as a problem anymore. I shrugged it off, knowing that they knew I knew how to take care of myself, and so began my summer vacation, working less shifts at Patsy's as I waited for my future to come knocking.

"Mail come yet?" I asked casually that Saturday morning as I headed downstairs, barefoot, wearing shorts and a breezy tank top, my raven mane tamed for a moment, as I'd managed to pile it atop my head.

"On the coffee table," Dad called, not looking up from his paper.

I crossed over to the table in front of the couch, sifting through it, until I came to a large, cream-colored envelope. I was vaguely aware of Dad putting the paper down, and Mom standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching me. As I took in my name, printed in bold on the front of the envelope, I quickly saw that it was from Northwestern University.

"Guys…"

"Open it," said another voice and, looking up fully then, saw Pops and Uncle Ian were sitting at the breakfast table as well.

I smiled nervously at them all before flipping the envelope over, and pulled open the tab to allow myself access to the thick paperwork inside. Heart in my throat, I pulled out the paper and gazed at it, hardly believing my eyes. "'Dear Miss Gallagher," it read, for that was the name in which I'd applied under, "congratulations and welcome to the Class of 2038 of Northwestern University! We understand that this university was your first choice, and we understand that you must be very excited…' Holy fucking god!" I cried out then, my eyes widening far beyond any measure than they'd done before as I raised my eyes to my family, who were all grinning from ear to ear. "Holy shit! I got into college!"

"That's my baby!" my mom cried out then, our animosity suddenly dying down in this moment of celebration, as she rushed towards me. She threw her arms around me then, holding me against her, before ultimately pulling back and kissing my forehead. "Now, for your surprise and reward for getting in…"

"Surprise? Reward? What…?" I asked, shaking my head.

"We've agreed," Dad said, stepping forward, as did Uncle Ian and Pops, "that your hard work shall not go unnoticed or unappreciated from now on. I want you to know that we heard you the other day, Iana, and our lackluster attitudes won't continue."

I blinked. "Thank you."

"And because of that," Mom continued, reaching into her pocket and drawing out a piece of paper, "here is a round-trip, first-class ticket to New York."

I gasped, taking the ticket and looking it over. "New-fucking-York?!" I cried out.

"To see Fiona," Uncle Ian put in.

"You've gotta try a New York dog for me," Pops said eagerly.

I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to force myself not to laugh as Mom, Dad, and Uncle Ian gave Pops an annoyed expression. "Now I'm not sure if I even want to have that particular food group ever again," I said, and, finally, threw my head back and laughed at the amazing moment I was having in the first phase of what I felt was to become my adult life.

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Hell and Back Again

Chapter Six: Hell and Back Again

"So, New York, huh?"

"Hmmm," I said by means of reply, leaning back against Liam's muscular frame, delighting in every minute of the physical contact. "Yeah. Should be fun."

"You've never been?"

"A couple of times, after my dad came back, my mom would take me and Carla for a girl's trip to see my Aunt Fiona," I replied. "We'd go shopping and hang out and stuff like that. We always had a good time."

"It sounds like it."

"How about you?" I asked, turning over slightly so as I could stare into Liam's beautiful, silvery eyes. "You ever been?"

Liam smirked. "I'm the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the United States. I've been to New York many times on business."

I smirked then, bracing myself up onto my elbow so that I could get on top of Liam, who raised his eyebrows and grinned at my brazen behavior. "And what about for pleasure?" I asked, letting out a short gasp as he ran his hands over my body. "Ever go to New York for that?"

"Yeah, a few times, when I was younger. Mom and Dad honeymooned in New York. Before things got bad with him, we'd go as a family. Penny, too."

I reached down then, cupping his cheek in my hand, my heart thudding in my chest as he leaned into it. "I'm sorry things got bad."

Liam shrugged. "Hey, it is what it is." He lifted me slightly, so as I was anchored just above him, as he teased me. "So, Northwestern?"

I laughed. "Yeah. I already sent off the letter, accepting their acceptance. I'm really excited to get over there and get to work."

"Have any idea what you're going to study?"

"A slight idea," I replied, biting down hard on my lower lip as I allowed him access inside me then, and loving the sensation completely.

"Care to share?"

"Business management," I replied.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I replied, clearing my throat of the sensations Liam evoked from within me, and especially loved the notion that his strong hands were on my naked hips. "Yeah, I want to take over this place from my mom."

"You sure you wouldn't want a more...I don't know...high-profile job?"

I scoffed. "Please," I muttered, a whimper escaping my lips as Liam got to his feet then, and kept his hold on me. "I love this place. I want to keep it in the family…"

"Have you discussed this with your mom at all?" he asked, bracing me up against the wall, and continuing his forward motion.

I pursed my lips. "There's a great many things I don't discuss with my mother, Liam, as you well know…dammit," I said, bracing my palms onto his shoulders.

Liam smirked. "Yeah, well, my sister knows about us…"

I flushed, and it wasn't just because of the pounding. "Wait. Really?"

"Not all the details, of course," he replied. "But she figured out I've got someone in my life who I keep sneaking out to see…"

"My dad and uncle know about us, too…"

Liam stopped for a moment. "Wait. Which dad?"

I dug my heels into his backside then, and Liam quickly began moving back and forth again. "I just told Pops," I replied.

"So, your biological father, married to your uncle…"

"Yeah," I replied. "Him."

"It feels like you're closer to them than your mom and her husband…"

I shrugged. "Similar interests. Plus, I actually look like Pops. The only thing I really got from my mom were her eyes, and those she and my Aunt Fiona have, so…"

Liam stiffened inside me then, and I immediately covered his mouth with my hand, and he did the same to mine. Our hot breath made contact with each of our palms, and slowly, slowly, I untangled my legs from around his torso, bracing myself up against the wall to keep myself from buckling knees. "You okay?"

I nodded stiffly, rolling my shoulders then. I yanked my bra back into place and pulled my shirt down, and then I crossed the room and made a grab for my panties and denim shorts. "It was really nice of you to get over here so quickly…"

"Hey, anything to blow off a little steam."

"Because that's all this is, right?" I asked tentatively, peeking over my shoulder at him as I stepped into my shorts. "I mean… We didn't say…"

"You're right," Liam assured me, dressing himself. "That's all this is. I mean, we're friends who like to have fun."

"Like, friends with benefits?" I chuckled.

Liam returned my laugh. "Yeah. Something like that…"

"Great," I said, smoothing the wrinkles out of my clothes before turning around to face him. I walked over to him then and pressed my lips briefly to his, lingering for just a moment so as he'd have something to remember me by, before fishing my keys out of my pocket and turning around towards the door. "Glad to know we're on the same page!" I called out, before heading back out towards my car.

. . .

I worked double shifts that Sunday and Monday, and on Tuesday, Mom decided that Patsy's would play host to a Fourth of July barbeque. Franny and I, along with all the other waitresses and employees, were all decked out in stars and stripes, and songs about liberty pumped on the loudspeakers for all to hear. Franny and I were covering the breakfast and lunch rush, and would be off at three that afternoon to head home and prepare for the family barbecue to be held at Pops's and Uncle Ian's house later that night.

Franny and I finished our shifts just ten minutes before three, and Mom permitted us to head back into the employee locker room area to get changed and head out. I smirked to myself as we stood there, in front of our lockers, tidying them up; of course, I had more of a job to do, as this was my last shift before my week-long trip to New York. Franny, of course, would be coming in to cover a lot of my shifts, so I made it my mission to find her, and little Ezra, awesome gifts while I was across the country.

"Andy the only one you ever fuck in there?"

I nearly choked on the bottle of water I'd been chugging, before turning to look over at my cousin and best friend. "What?" I asked, still trying to remember how to breathe.

"Well, I mean, you've been fucking for over two years now," Franny said with a little shrug of her shoulders. "Just a question."

"No, yeah, I know," I said, clearing my throat then as I gathered the last of my clothes to be laundered into my duffel bag that I'd brought in that morning. "I mean, I think we've already established that you can ask me whatever the fuck you want…"

Franny crossed her arms, leaning back against her locker then as she scrutinized me. "I think you're hiding something…"

I rolled my shoulders then, deliberately attempting not to look at her as I grabbed the feather duster and meticulously worked at the metal shelves inside my locker. "Yeah, well, we're Gallaghers," I said with a shrug. "Plus, I'm a Milkovich, too. We hide shit. It's a known fact that we're imperfect beings…"

"We're not talking about perfection here," Franny said, growing impatient. "We're talking about fucking; specifically, your fucking."

I rolled my eyes, returning the feather duster to its proper place. "Yeah…" I said, letting the word linger there for a moment before I turned and looked at her. "One other person. I've fucked one other person back here… You happy now?"

Franny looked shocked at my declaration then, and immediately proceeded to question me. "Oh, my god, who was it?!"

I scoffed then, pulling my duffel over my shoulder and slamming my locker shut, securing it with its combination lock. "Quit it, Franny."

"No, tell me," she begged, slamming her own locker closed and clipping the lock onto it as she followed me out to my car, getting into the passenger seat. "What have you been keeping so hidden these past couple of weeks…?"

I muttered under my breath, throwing my duffel into the back seat and buckling up, nodding for Franny to do the same. "Not much to know…"

"I highly doubt that," Franny replied, yanking her seatbelt into place. "You're hiding something, Iana, and I know it."

I nipped at my bottom lip then before I turned to face her. "Look, I'm calling in my favor about you not telling my parents about it. You owe me when it came to Ezra's dad, whose name I never bring up, because we were both burned by him. Got it?"

Franny sighed. "Fine, I won't tell anyone. Now, tell me who you've been fucking in the employee locker room!" she said, bouncing up and down in her seat and clapping her hands. "I want to know!"

I rolled my eyes, the sight of my cousin acting like she'd won the grand prize at some fucking carnival or something quickly becoming annoying. "It was William Kennedy," I replied, fishing my keys out from my pocket.

Franny looked shocked for a moment before she launched into further questioning. "Wait. The hot-shot millionaire guy from graduation?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Wait. He was the douchebag at the diner that day, the one that you were eye-fucking from across the room," she said.

I swallowed then. "The same guy, yeah."

Franny mulled it over for a minute before she locked her eyes with mine. "But, Iana, that Kennedy guy is twenty-one…"

"I know that," I replied, running my hand over my steering wheel. "Don't you think I'd know something like that?"

"Was it just the one time?" she asked quietly. "Before he knew you were only sixteen? I mean, did he freak out afterwards or something…?"

"He didn't figure out how old I was until after graduation," I replied. "The sexual attraction was mutual, but he refused to do anything to me…"

"Wise decision," Franny replied, "him being CEO of a huge cooperation and all."

"You know what they say about forbidden fruit," I said, pulling my hands into my lap and knotting my fingers together. "It tastes all the sweeter…"

"Iana, what were you thinking?"

"Clearly, all rational thought went out the window," I replied. "He immediately regretted it the next morning…"

"Next morning?!" Franny demanded. "You never stay with one person that long! You like to get them out quickly…"

"Yeah, and I never fuck the same person twice, but here we are…"

"Twice?!" Franny squawked. "Are you kidding me?"

I scoffed then, tilting my head back so that the back of it rested upon the top of my seat. "More than twice, Franny. A few times, actually…"

Franny sighed, staring at me for a moment. "You like him."

I felt my face flush immediately then as I shook my head. "Uh, no. Never. Not happening. I don't like anyone, Franny…"

"You have got to get over this whole, 'I'm unworthy of love' thing you've got going on. Come on; I'm not telling you to forget the past, but you can move on from it. What happened with Jackass Monroe was so long ago now…"

"Four years," I said quietly.

"Right. So now you can move on accordingly. Maybe with Kennedy, maybe not, but you deserve a happy ending, Iana."

I sighed then, considering it. "I don't know…"

Franny thought about it for a moment, letting the silence linger between us until a new idea seemed to come to her. "How much cash you got on you?"

I blinked, turning to look at her then. "Why?" I asked.

"Just tell me."

"Seventy-five," I replied. "Why?"

Franny grinned. "Because, in celebration of Independence Day, you and I are going to a random bodega and getting you a fake I.D. in preparation for your trip to New York."

"Franny, why would I need a fake? Nobody drives in New York, so it's not like I wouldn't be taking a cab anywhere…"

"So that you can go to clubs, duh," Franny said, rolling her eyes. "The only places you can drink around here are Uncle Ian's place and The Alibi, if Kev looks the other way long enough to accept your cash. Come on. Live a little."

I bit my lip then, mulling over the potential consequences attached to possessing such a thing, as well as using it, but all common sense quickly went out the window. "Screw it," I said, flashing a grin at Franny.

Franny grinned. "What?"

"We're going," I told her, sticking my key into the ignition and turning it, the aggressive purr of my car letting me know that we were on a mission. "Who knows? Maybe I'll do something completely reckless on the East Coast…"

"Fucking someone five years older than you isn't reckless?"

I laughed. "Maybe," I replied, backing out of my parking space, "but I can't go to jail for something like that; he can," I told her, making my way out of the alley and over a few blocks, waiting to hand my cash over to a stranger for potential illegal activity.

. . .

We touched down in New York in the early afternoon on the day of my trip; I was still slightly exhausted from the barbecue from the night before, and was suffering from quite a hangover to top it all off. With the vein still throbbing on the side of my forehead, I got to my feet with the rest of the first-class section and made my way to the edge of the aisle, wanting more than anything to get off this plane. I slipped my carry-on bag over my shoulder and, once the signal was given, I moved quickly towards the exit, finally reaching the inside of the airport, and began following the signs for the baggage claim.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as I arrived at the carousel, waiting for my bag to arrive. The sign informed me that my flight had arrived, and that the bag were due to appear in the next ten minutes or so. I took out my phone then, taking it off of airplane mode and waiting for the flurry of text messages to arrive. I had six unanswered ones, all from different members of my family; my parents, Pops and Uncle Ian, Aunt Fiona, and Franny. My parents wished me well and kindly requested that I let them know when I'd landed safely, and arrived at Aunt Fiona's penthouse; the next text message, from Pops, was telling me to have a good time; Uncle Ian told me to be safe; Aunt Fiona said that she was on her way and would meet me at the airport; and Franny told me to put my new fake I.D. to good use.

I rolled my eyes at the last text, but nevertheless replied to all of them, before slipping my phone back into my pocket. I'd told Aunt Fiona that I was at baggage claim, giving her the number of the claim itself, and nibbled on my lower lip, wondering when my black roller suitcase was due to be spat out onto the machine. Rolling on the backs of my feet then, I felt relieved when the carousel suddenly beeped slightly, informing the various plane passengers that our bags were due out at any moment.

"Iana!"

I turned around then, spotting Aunt Fiona immediately through the crowd, letting out a slight squeal of happiness and bouncing up and down, not wanting to give up my place, front and center, by the baggage claim. When my aunt came through the crowds and towards me then, I was immediately yanked into her arms, and I was pleased that she'd gotten there quickly. She just held me for a moment, before she pulled back, holding my face in her hands and just staring down at me, almost as if she was searching for something.

"It's only been a couple of weeks, but you already are looking so much older," Aunt Fiona told me with a smile.

I rolled my eyes. "Please. Whereas you haven't aged a day since I was a kid."

Aunt Fiona playfully rolled her eyes, before spotting something behind me. She maneuvered herself around my body then and, turning, saw that she'd managed to quickly snag my roller suitcase quickly from the fray. Setting it down beside me, I immediately made a grab for it, and she took my carry-on bag, slinging it over her free arm, before putting her arm around my shoulders and guiding me towards the main doors of the airport, where passengers could get a taxi, town car, or limo to their destination of choice.

"Uncle Jimmy still at the practice?" I asked.

Aunt Fiona nodded. "Yeah, until later on tonight. But he still has the weekends off, so don't worry about a thing. We'll have plenty of time to do things together."

I smiled at her. "Not worried," I replied, watching as Aunt Fiona signaled for a sleek-looking, black town car to pick us up. I continued watching as the driver pulled up alongside us and slipped out of the vehicle, taking my suitcase from me and putting it into the trunk. I followed Aunt Fiona towards the back seat area, slipping inside when directed to by her, and thanking the driver when he shut the door behind us.

"Where to, ladies?" he asked, a rich, Caribbean accent escaping from his lips.

"3 East Eighty-Ninth Street," Aunt Fiona replied, naming where her penthouse was.

"No problem, ma'am," the driver said, pulling out from his space beside the curb and falling into the line of traffic.

"The drive shouldn't be more than twenty minutes, depending on traffic…"

I smiled, pleased at her consideration. "I remember," I told her.

"So, your first solo trip to New York," Aunt Fiona said, turning to look at me. "Anything you want to do in your week here?"

I shrugged. "Whatever you want to do is fine with me."

"Well, we got tickets to _Hamilton_ , which is our graduation present to you," Aunt Fiona said. "It turns out that Jimmy is the primary care physician for the current lead in the show."

My eyes widened. "That's amazing!"

"Right? Small world," Aunt Fiona said with a laugh. "We also got dinner reservations at IL Carino," she went on breezily. "We got a sitter for James and Murphy, and they'll be in bed by the time we get home."

I nodded. "Sounds great," I replied.

Aunt Fiona and I continued to make small talk for the next fifteen minutes, until we arrived at her lavish townhouse. Slipping from the car quickly, Aunt Fiona paid the man for the trip, and I saw a generous tip exchanging hands as I removed my roller from his trunk. Hauling it up onto the sidewalk, I walked after Aunt Fiona, still holding onto my carry-on bag, as we made our way towards the steps of the lavish-looking, turn-of-the-century building. Going up the stairs quickly, Aunt Fiona dug her key out of her pocket, turning it in the lock and stepping inside, and I followed her in, never getting tired of the beauty of the architecture.

"Let's get your things into the guest suite," she said with a smile, and we walked towards the back of the house, where the suite was located.

"Where are my cousins this afternoon?" I asked.

"James is off with his friends somewhere," Aunt Fiona replied, and I could tell from her tone that she didn't approve of them completely.

"And Murphy?"

"Ballet," she said, and her tone was much lighter.

I mulled that over in my mind then as Aunt Fiona opened the cream-colored door to the guest suite, the one I usually slept in, as there were a trio of rooms reserved for guests, each boasting a walk-in closet and en suite bathroom. "Sound to me like you don't like James's friends too much," I put in quietly, making my way into the room behind her, and setting my suitcase beside the small, cushioned bench at the base of the queen-sized bed. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm as South Side as you are, but New York is a different place…"

Aunt Fiona sighed, leaning against the doorframe of my borrowed bedroom. "I don't know, sweetie. I guess I don't want to see him getting hurt…"

"He's a teenager now, close in age to Clayton and Fionn," I replied.

"He's _just_ thirteen, though," Aunt Fiona put in with a shrug. "I guess I don't want to see him growing up too quickly."

I raised my eyebrows. "You think he is?"

She sighed. "I _did_ find some cigarettes on him about a week ago…"

I scoffed. "Cigarettes a child's play, believe me," I said. "I was smoking since I was eleven. It's not really anything to worry about."

"I know you smoke, sweetie. Not much gets by me."

I crossed my arms then, wondering what else she knew. "Well, of course you knew about me getting my period at twelve…"

"Of course," she replied. "You called me."

"And then came the drinking at thirteen, and sex at fourteen…" I laughed a little then, and sat down upon the bench behind me. "Guess I've lived a full life…"

Aunt Fiona's dark brows knit together then as she considered something. "Do you even like having sex, Iana?"

I nodded. "Sure, I mean, on a physical level, at least. I mean, you know as well as I do that I don't discriminate between guys or girls. Either can be fun, as long as you know what you're doing. I hate being the only one aware. Makes it all work and no play…"

"And what about the people? You ever sleep with someone you like?"

I scoffed. "I don't like anyone, Aunt Fiona. You and Pops should know that by now. It's just not in the cards for me. Period."

Aunt Fiona smiled. "Like I said, not much gets by me."

I scoffed a second time then, getting my phone out of my pocket, wondering if anyone else had texted me. "You're out of your mind."

"Then why did your face light up when you looked at your phone just now?"

I felt myself flush at being backed into a corner then as I shook my head, attempting to hide my phone from her. "No… No reason."

She sighed. "Look, sweetie, I'm not going to confiscate your phone from you, because you're not my kid, but you are in my house for the next week, and I think you're hiding something. I mean, I'm right, aren't I?"

I sighed then, flattening myself onto the foot of the bed then, staring at the ceiling. "Fine, fine, okay. You're right. Call off the fucking witch hunt, already okay?!"

"That's more like it," Aunt Fiona said, always pleased to know when she was right. She crossed the room then and sat down next to me, not reaching out for my phone, but not bothering to give me the personal space, which I craved 99.9% of the time. "So, who is he...or she?"

"He," I replied. "It's a guy…"

"Not that Monroe guy…"

"No!" I said, the rage bubbling just beneath the surface as I remembered him, the sudder escaping from me before I could call it back.

"You two ever talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Not since she told me… But it doesn't matter, not anymore. We're over it, and we're not discussing it, Aunt Fiona. Period."

"Okay," she said, and I could tell by her tone that she was going to let the subject drop. "Why don't you tell me about this guy, then?"

"His name is Liam; well, that's his nickname, at least…"

"What's his full name, then?"

"William Kennedy," I said quietly.

"William Kennedy…?" Aunt Fiona said, considering the name. "Wait. He was that guy who spoke at yours and Franny's graduation…"

I sighed. "Yeah, that's him."

Aunt Fiona looked concerned then. "Sweetie, he's twenty-one."

I rolled my eyes, all the while still staring up at the ceiling. "I'm aware of how old he is, Aunt Fiona. Thank you."

"He's a man, though, sweetie. And you're…"

"I know I'm sixteen, still a teenager," I said, forcing my voice not to tremble. "And yet, you know as well as I do how fast I had to grow up."

She sighed. "Yeah, I know, honey."

"And you know a thing or two about raising your siblings."

"All too well."

"That why you don't want to have kids?"

I blinked, turning my head to face her then, confusion filling my expression as I continued to stare at her. "What?" I asked.

"Well, you've expressed no desire to have them…"

I sighed, shrugging then. "I don't know. I mean, I don't see myself settling down with anyone either, but you knew that already…"

"You think Clayton and Fionn killed the baby bug?"

I laughed sarcastically. "I think a lot of bugs were killed when Tommy came into all our lives," I replied, my tone bitter, as always, whenever I or somebody else brought him up. "I mean, before he came on the scene, I wanted to stay with my mom forever…"

"I think that's a common trait in most children…"

"I'm not 'most children', Aunt Fiona," I replied. "Most children say 'Dada' before 'Mama', which I didn't get an opportunity to say until Dad adopted me. Most children aren't handed off to an uncle to raise when they're five-years-old, and subsequently have to become a mother themselves afterwards. Most children don't go from a mommy's girl to daddy's little girl very often… Most children don't have three fathers."

"You consider Clayton and Fionn your kids?"

"I don't consider them my kids; they _are_ my kids."

"How does your mom feel about that?"

I sighed. "It's all about baby steps, I guess. She gave me this trip to New York as a sign of a white flag, I guess, but I never know with her anymore…"

"You think you'll ever forgive her?"

"I think the entire situation is easier to understand, now that I know what she was fighting for the entire time. However, I think getting in bed with Tommy, figuratively and literally, could've been prevented somehow. I mean, Mason had all these connections within the department to make my dad safe, but he could've pulled my mom out at any time, and he didn't…"

"It wasn't up to him, sweetheart."

I turned and looked at Aunt Fiona then, shaking my head. "What? What do you mean it wasn't up to him? He was the cop here…"

My aunt turned away from me then, shaking her head. "Of course Murphy wouldn't tell you anything about this. For fuck's sake… I love my sister, but the fact remains that she thinks she has to be a fucking martyr all the time…"

"You're telling me," I muttered. "But what the hell did you mean just then, Aunt Fiona? Why didn't Mason pull her out?"

She shook her head. "I shouldn't say anything…"

"Aunt Fiona…"

"No. I won't foster your negative opinion of her."

"I'm sixteen, perfectly capable of forming opinions, positive and negative, on my own. I graduated high school early, and secured placement in a top university. I'm no dope, Aunt Fiona, trust me. I may be the daughter of a mentally ill mother and a criminal father, and I may be a total slut when it comes to sex, but come the fuck on. Don't sit there and tell me that you think my opinion of my mother will be wrecked further, and tell me what you know."

Aunt Fiona dragged a hand over her face. "Maybe I've said too much already…"

"You're goddamn right you have," I said, leaping on her words. "Fucking tell me. She swore she would tell me, but she never tells me a fucking thing. I'm tired of waiting, and I'm not a fucking baby anymore. Just…tell me."

Aunt Fiona sighed. "Honey, your mom was given the opportunity by Mason to be pulled out of the mission several times, but she didn't, because she refused."

I gaped then, sitting up completely as I attempted to process the information. "She didn't want to be pulled out?" I whispered then, my voice shaking. "Are you fucking kidding me right now, Aunt Fiona?"

She shook her head. "No. Not kidding."

"Fucking Christ!" I screamed then, leaping to my feet and pacing the room. "I don't fucking understand any of this! I know she loves Dad, don't get me wrong, but fucking putting him first out of all this…"

"Iana, you can't really think that she didn't even think about you and the boys…"

"The hell I can't!" I said, a soft cry escaping my lips before I could call it back, recalling the nights when the boys would cry because they were hungry, had dirty diapers, were scared, or just missed our mother, and how I'd had to step up, feed them, change them, or just hold them until they felt better, sometimes all night long, thus rendering me exhausted the following day. I still forced myself to go to school, however, and was pleased that my work never suffered because of the impact of parenthood put upon me so young… "Do you realize all the hell I went through, Aunt Fiona?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Probably all or much of what I went through, sweetheart," she replied.

I nodded. "Yeah, yeah… But she didn't even give it a second thought. She fucking came into the house on the day, the very minute, she kicked Tommy to the curb, expecting everything to be all right and good again. I knew that if I didn't forgive her, and go along with it, that it could really fuck up the boys. I remember Uncle Ian just staring at me, begging me to take her back, and I just knew I had to do it…"

"You did what you thought was right…"

"Yeah," I said bitterly. "Showing her consideration when she hadn't shown me any in fucking several years…"

"Honey, she sent you to live with Ian _because_ she was considering you," Aunt Fiona replied. "I know this for a fact. She'd seen what Tommy was capable of, or at least had an idea, and didn't want to same thing to happen to you."

I scoffed. "Hell of a lot good that did…"

Aunt Fiona got to her feet then, crossing over to me and physically turning me around, searching my eyes, her eyes. "Honey… What are you telling me right now?"

I tried to pull away from her, but Aunt Fiona held my arms tightly in her grip, and I knew then that there was no escape. "What's there to say? It's in the past…"

"Sweetheart, what are you talking about?"

"It's not like he fucking raped me or anything like that, Aunt Fiona, Jesus," I muttered, finally managing to yank myself away from her.

"Iana, what are you…?"

"It was just touching," I said defensively then, my voice hard as I recalled the times when Tommy got so drunk, calling me 'Murphy', within the shadows of darkness. "It's not like he stuck his fucking dick…"

"Iana!" Aunt Fiona cried out.

"What?!" I demanded. "It's the truth!"

"Iana, what are you even…?"

"He didn't fuck me, okay?! Tommy didn't rape me, so that's the takeaway here!"

"Iana, you were a little girl…"

"I was five fucking years old, thank you!" I said, my voice trembling. "That's the same year I became a mother, and did god knows what else to survive. But I'm fine now. I'm me…"

"Iana…"

"What?" I demanded then. "What are you going to say now?"

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm fucking not okay, I'm…" I broke off then, feeling dizzy then, and shook my head, willing for the feeling to pass, but it didn't. "Excuse me," I said, and bolted from the room, and into the en suite bathroom, falling to my knees in front of the pristine, eggshell-white toilet bowl, and puking up my airplane meal. I felt the tremors all over my entire body as I continued to hurl into it, my body physically weak afterwards. I got shakily to my feet, closing the bowl, before flushing it, and turned to see that Aunt Fiona standing there, offering me a wet rag. "Thanks," I said, my voice significantly calmer now.

"Iana…"

I dragged a hand across my face. "Look, I'm fine. It's not like he didn't get a slap on the wrist when it came to sentencing. They had enough charges stacked against him that they didn't need the testimony of a sniveling little girl. The opposing side would've said some shit about me being resentful of him literally taking my mother from me. I didn't want to deal with that; I read enough court transcripts and saw enough legal dramas in my childhood that I knew I didn't want some guy in an overpriced suit who thought he knew all the answers to yell at and demean me any further than I already had been those past couple of years. It's not something I needed, after all that, and, who's to say? Maybe I wouldn't be dubbed a reliable witness…"

Aunt Fiona sighed. "Still, I'm surprised you didn't…"

"What? Tell anyone? Please," I said, crossing my arms, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "I got my mother, plus my father, and Pops back, all in one fell swoop. I know that we Gallagher's and Milkovich's protect our own, and can sometimes take shit to the extreme. The last thing I wanted was a broken family all over again…"

"But Iana…"

"Listen, I made a choice, the right one, for me," I told her, locking my eyes with hers, so as she would know that I meant every word of what I was about to say. "It's not like I need to be fixed anymore than I've already attempted to do so. Chain smoker at eleven; woman at twelve; drinker at thirteen; assault victim at fourteen; bipolar at fifteen… I've lived through hell and back, Aunt Fiona, and I'm ready for whatever curveball life wants to throw at me next."

Aunt Fiona looked me up and down then, looking as if she wanted to say more, but unsure of what my reaction would be. "You sure about that?" she asked.

I opened my mouth automatically to respond, but something passed between us then, something that couldn't be spoken aloud, and yet I knew, changes were on the horizon.

. . .

The rest of my trip to New York was a success, and I was happy to be getting home with a few weeks left of my final summer vacation before adulthood truly set in. I was thankful that no jet lag would be involved in my homecoming, and yet I found I was quite exhausted once Pops picked me up from the airport. He asked me about New York, Aunt Fiona and Uncle Jimmy, plus my cousins, James and Murphy. I explained that James fancied himself as a wannabe gangster, due to his circle of friends, while Murphy was every inch a girly-girl and wanted nothing more than to have tea parties, go shopping, and make up stories about her dolls.

"We saw _Hamilton_ ," I said.

"Yeah?" he asked. "How'd that go?"

I shrugged. "You know, can't complain. Not my style of music, but you know. The costumes were fun to look at, I guess."

Pops nodded then, peeking over at me from time to time. "Feeling all right?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, fine. Little tired, maybe. Why do you ask?"

"You look pale."

I nearly choked on the overpriced bottle of water I'd bought in the airport before meeting Pops at baggage claim. "What?" I asked, my mouth still half-full.

"No, it's fine. You're always pretty to me, Iana, you know that. I'm just concerned."

I smiled, leaning across the seats and kissing him on the cheek, getting a chuckle out of him. "I appreciate the concern, Pops, really, but I'm just tired, I swear. You know, I did miss you a whole hell of a lot…"

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "Yeah, of course I did. I wouldn't be here without you."

We continued our session of small talk as we drove the rest of the way back home from O'Hare, and arrived on our street within an hour. Pops helped me get my roller suitcase out of the car, and walked me to the door, before hugging me goodbye and heading back across the street. I let myself in, knowing that my parents were likely at work, and the rest of my family could've been god knows where. I locked the door behind me and took my suitcase up the stairs; my plan was to empty it out and do a load of laundry, and then crash until dinner.

It was a calming experience, taking my clothes out of my suitcase, knowing that the next time I'd be doing such a thing would be in my dorm room at college. I heard from my mother, who had also begun college at sixteen, that her parents hadn't allowed her to have a dorm room until she was eighteen. After a lot of persuasion, however, Mom and Dad had agreed that I could move out of the house, as long as I returned home for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and summer, which I'd readily agreed to, due to the opportunity for freedom.

I headed downstairs, the load of laundry in my basket, and loaded it up into the washing machine before I headed back upstairs. I flopped down onto my bed, landing on my back, and wincing slightly as a bolt of pain shot through me. Leaning upwards again, I scooted off the edge of my bed and crossed towards my floor-length mirror, and took off the long-sleeved shirt that I'd been wearing on the plane. I got a good look at my arm then, still encased in the cast the tattoo parlor had given me. I brushed my fingertips against it, wincing slightly, but remembering how great it was to see the abundance of red roses, tied up in a bed of thorns. Sure, Mom and Dad would likely blow a gasket, due to me still being two years too young to get one without their permission, but I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

When my phone vibrated then, I went over to where I'd plugged it into the wall, and sat back down on my bed, seeing that it was Franny calling. "Hey," I said, once I'd answered the phone, peeking over at the cast again before going over to my chest of drawers and managing to find a tank top to yank on. "What's up?"

"You back home?"

I nodded. "Yeah, just a few minutes ago. Pops gave me a ride."

"Good. I'm already on my way. My mom has Ezra for the day."

I sighed then, rolling my shoulders. "Where are you?"

"Just down the block," she replied. "Hey. It's all going to be okay."

I bit down hard on my lip. "Yeah, maybe," I allowed, getting to my feet and leaving my bedroom, as I headed down the stairs. "Just don't know how I'm supposed to handle all this…" I unlocked and opened the front door, spotting Franny then, close to the house.

"Hey," she said, waving to me before she hung up the phone. She continued down the block and let herself into the gate, shutting it behind her and walking towards me. She climbed the steps of the porch, pulling me into her arms for a moment, running her fingers up and down my back. "I am not going to ditch you, Iana. Not now, not ever. Let's just get this over with."

I sighed, pulling back and nodding stiffly, pulling her into the house behind me. I was vaguely aware of Franny locking the door behind me, and we went promptly upstairs to my bedroom. I turned and faced her once she arrived, and watched as she dipped into her purse, handing me the pregnancy test as she sat down on my bed. "You sure?" I asked.

She nodded. "Better to know," she replied. "I'll be right out here. You come back out as soon as you're done, and we'll look together. Okay?"

I nodded back at her, swallowing slightly as I moved towards my bathroom door, pushing it open all the way before shutting it behind me. I walked over to the toilet then, yanking down my denim shorts and sitting down, biting my lip as I opened up the cardboard box of the test and set it down behind me. I angled myself appropriately then, sticking the test between my legs, and felt slight relief when the gush of urine made contact with it. I did all I could, before placing the test beside the box, checking it briefly for instructions as I cleaned myself up. I yanked up my jeans and crossed over to the sink, carefully washing my hands before I made a grab for the test again and left the bathroom.

"You did it?" Franny asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. I did it."

"Okay," Franny said, getting to her feet and standing opposite me, knowing that I wanted her close to me, but not touching. "I'm right here," she told me quietly, and I raised my eyes to hers in a quick manner. "Don't worry. It's all okay…"

I sighed then, trying to hold it together, knowing that it was now or never. I lowered my eyes to the test then, and a small gasp came forth from my lips.

"What is it, Iana?"

"Fuck, I fucking knew it," I whispered then, looking up at Franny. "I'm fucking pregnant…" I turned and looked at myself in the mirror then, and turned to the side, lifting up my shirt and my shorts downwards ever so slightly.

"Whoa…"

"What?" I hissed at Franny.

"I looked that pregnant when I was a good three months with Ezra…"

My mouth fell open then, quickly doing the math. "If I'm that far along, then there's no way in hell that it's Liam's…" I whispered.

"Who does that leave?"

"Fucking Andy Parker," I muttered, putting my head into my hands. "Jesus. I was supposed to fucking start my life, go to college, do shit, and now…"

"There are other options, Iana."

I raised my eyes to hers then. "You mean…?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure your parents would totally support that."

I sighed then, looking down at the swelling of my stomach. "Well, I guess I'll have to see how far along I am first," I muttered, knowing that there was a slight possibility of me getting attached to this parasite, but I forced myself to think positive. "Maybe there's still time to right this wrong. Who knows?"

"Um...the doctor?" Franny asked.

I bit my lip. "Look, I know you were a year younger than me, and you were able to do this, Franny, but that's the difference between you and me…"

"And what difference is that?"

"You had the maternal gene," I replied. "I have none of that," I went on, making a face as I looked at myself sideways in my mirror. "I never had any of that…"

"Look at Clayton and Fionn," Franny replied. "You mothered them."

I sighed. "It's different. Sure, I mothered them, but they're my brothers. They are my kids, for all intents and purposes, but I'm still their big sister. It'll never be like that with this thing," I told her, forcing myself not to touch it.

Franny cocked her head to one side. "How do you know?"

I smiled at her. "Because I know myself."

"People change every single day," she replied. "How can you possibly know that you'll wake up tomorrow, suddenly different?"

I shrugged. "Guess I made up my mind a long time ago."

"Minds can be changed…"

I shook my head. "I don't think so, Franny."

Franny smiled at me. "But they can."

I swallowed then, knowing what decision was expected of me, and knew that I had to follow through with it, no matter what. "Not my mind, Franny," I told her firmly, letting her know that the subject, for now, at least, was closed.


	7. Unlucky Seven

Chapter Seven: Unlucky Seven

"Do you even have a plan?"

I turned and looked at Franny over my shoulder then, after having gone into my dresser and gotten a far more flowy top out, so as my bump, no matter how small it was at this stage, would not show under any circumstances. "Franny, I just took the test five minutes ago," I replied, and rolled my eyes slightly at the calamity of it all. "Please. I'm not even thinking about next week, let alone next month, or next year…"

"Well, try this one on for size," Franny replied, slightly annoyed. "What are you going to do about Northwestern? You've already accepted their acceptance…"

"Oh, for the love of…" I placed my head back into my hands, working my temples with my fingers as I mulled it over. "I don't fucking know. I guess the next plan of action would be to make a doctor's appointment to get the fetus looked at or whatever…"

"An ultrasound," Franny said gently. "You want to get an ultrasound."

"I fucking know what it's called," I replied, picking up my head and shooting Franny a glare. "I may be stupid enough to have drunken, unprotected sex, but I know what some so-called medical professionals are called…"

"If they're giving you an ultrasound, rest-assured they're a professional."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Captain Obvious. Much appreciated…"

"Maybe make an appointment now…"

I bit my lower lip then, in an effort to cut back another rude retort towards Franny as I made my way over to my bed, where my cell phone was. Picking it up, I called up Dr. Lennox, my mother's doctor, and wasn't surprised to get her front desk. "Hey, Cheryl," I said, addressing her receptionist. "This is Iana Gallagher-Blomqvist."

"Hello, Iana," said Cheryl. "How may I help you today?"

"Look, this call is sensitive in nature, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell my parents about it," I said quietly.

"Of course. Understood," Cheryl replied, her tone still upbeat. "What's going on?"

I sighed, knowing that, once I recalled the story aloud completely, then it would be even more real, but I knew I needed to get through the hurdle sooner rather than later. "I just got back from a trip to New York, after feeling queasy the entire week," I replied. "And no, I don't think it's something I ate," I told her quickly, knowing that that was usually the first question that anyone asked someone under eighteen in that situation. "I got a pregnancy test from my cousin and it seems that I'm pregnant."

"I see," Cheryl said, always remaining professional. "And how far along would you guess that you were?"

"About eight weeks," I replied.

"All right. And you're experiencing morning sickness, I take it?"

"Yeah, when I'm stressed…or smell fish," I replied.

Cheryl giggled lightly from the other end of the phone. "Understood," she told me. "All right. I have an appointment with Dr. Lennox available at eleven o'clock next Tuesday, a week from today, as a matter of fact. Would that work for you?"

"Yeah, thanks," I replied. I wasn't due at work until one that afternoon, and was covering most of the lunch rush, as well as the entire dinner rush, meaning I'd be helping clean up and close down Patsy's that same evening.

"Okay, Iana, I'm putting you down for eleven o'clock on July the nineteenth," she said, and I quickly accessed my phone calendar and put down the information. "As stated, you would prefer this appointment to be confidential, and I've put a note in attachment to the appointment email for Dr. Lennox."

"Thanks so much, Cheryl," I said, feeling more relieved.

"No problem, Iana," she replied. "Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

I shook my head automatically then, despite being on the phone. "No, thank you, Cheryl. I think we've covered everything."

"Great," she said. "We'll see you next Tuesday at eleven o'clock."

"Thank you, Cheryl," I said. "Have a good one."

"You too, Iana," she replied as I hung up.

"What now?"

I turned and looked at Franny as she questioned me, and I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know, really. I mean, my initial plan was to do a load of laundry, put away my clothes, and then crash until tonight. But I'm so fucking wired now that I don't think sleep is necessarily in the cards for me at this point…"

Franny pursed her lips in consideration. "My mom has Ezra for the afternoon. Why don't I take over your laundry, and put it away? You can take a nap or just head out and so whatever for a while. Your call."

I nodded. "I think I'm gonna shower, and then maybe head out for while," I replied. "I mean, if you're sure you don't mind hanging here…"

Franny shook her head. "No, that's cool. You go do your thing. You'll need some time to think about all this."

"You're probably right," I told her, hesitating for a moment before I stepped forward, yanking her into my arms. "And…you'll be there for me, right?"

"Hey, it's okay," Franny said, holding me against her. "You may be my cousin, but you're also my best friend, and I'm not going anywhere."

"You're my best friend, too," I said, pulling back before I would let my emotions get the better of me, and plastered a smile on my face. "Thanks."

"No problem," Franny replied.

. . .

 _As the inked needle worked its way up and down my arm, I sat there in the cushioned, leather chair of the tattoo parlor in New York, which had inexplicably accepted my fake I.D. Franny had told me that the guy supposedly did good work, and although I'd only gone to the tattoo parlor to test out the theory, I hadn't even considered it working. As the artist worked on me, I got the gist of her journey to New York and listened to her life story; her name was Lola Martinez and she came from Arizona, and after studying art and design at Arizona State, she did an internship at New York University, before being accepted into their art program. She had then gotten enough of a following to open her own shop, and I deliberately kept my mouth shut about my age, knowing that she would be in hot water if people found out._

" _So, you live in New York?" Lola asked._

 _I shook my head, taking in her tight leather clothing, dyed blue hair, piercings, and purple lipstick, which went well with her bronzed-cocoa skin. "No. Chicago," I replied. "South Side, born and raised."_

" _What brings you to New York, then?" she asked. "College tour?"_

 _I smiled at that; I could be upfront on one thing, and that was that I'd just graduated from high school a couple of weeks prior. "No. I got into Northwestern, so I'll be going there."_

" _First trip alone, then? Let me guess—graduation present?"_

 _I nodded. "Yeah, from my parents."_

" _You visiting anyone here, or…?"_

" _My mom's older sister lives here," I told her. "Husband and kids and all that. It's nice to have time with all of them. She's my favorite aunt."_

" _Ah, big family, then, I take it?"_

" _Like you wouldn't believe," I said with a laugh. "My mother is one of seven, and my biological father is one of six. My mother is also a twin, so there's that, and my mother's twin brother is married to my biological father. Long story," I said to Lola's slightly-raised eyebrows. "And then my adopted father was one of three, but his sister passed away, leaving him with one younger brother, but he lives in LA. And the only sibling of my biological father's that I'm in contact with is his younger sister, who I just recently learned about, and she's living with my uncle, my mother's older brother. So…"_

" _Seems like you guys like to keep it in the family," Lola replied._

 _I nodded. "You could say that, yeah."_

" _You have any siblings?"_

" _Yeah, I'm the oldest of five," I said. "After me came my twin brothers, then my only sister, and then a little brother. I had to help raise the twins, but that's another story. Let's just say that my family is complicated."_

" _Preaching to the choir," Lola informed me. "My Catholic parents kicked me out when I was fourteen after I came out. My older brother, Javier, secretly sent me money. Now he and I are roommates," she said._

" _What does Javier do?" I ask._

" _Doctor," she replied. "Just finished his residency and works at St. Marks. You know it?" she asked me._

" _Yeah, my uncle, Jimmy, owns a division of that practice," I replied. "Dr. Jimmy Lishman. I don't know if you've heard of him…"_

" _Javier was one of his new batch of residents," Lola said with a smile. "Dr. Lishman was so kind and considerate. It's nice to know he has other good members of his family."_

" _I'm sorry about your parents," I said quietly._

 _Lola nodded. "It's fine. I'm living my dream, doing something that I love. I don't know if we'll ever be in touch again, but it doesn't matter to me now…" She hesitates for a moment, obviously wanting to change the subject. "What do your parents do?"_

" _My adopted father is a lawyer, runs a firm with his parents," I reply. "And my mom owns a local diner in South Side. Took it off my aunt's hands before she moved her."_

" _So, you got into Northwestern," Lola said, continuing on with shaping my tattoo along my left arm expertly. "Have any idea what you want to study?"_

" _Business management; I want to take over the diner," I replied._

" _Well, if I can make my dream happen, Iana, I know you can, too."_

 _I smiled at her. "Thanks," I said. "I'm certainly gonna try."_

. . .

After I got out of my shower and dressed, I waved to Franny, who was living room, and slipped out of the house. I had my keys in one hand, locking up the door behind me as I stepped out into the July, mid-afternoon sunshine, and trudged down the porch. I hesitated as I walked out the gate in front of my car, biting my lip, before I circled the vehicle and walked across the street, knowing that, above all things, I needed my father most of all. I stepped onto the opposite sidewalk then and pushed open the other gate, allowing it to swing shut behind me, before climbing the stairs and letting myself inside.

Shutting the door behind me, I automatically walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, the sight of numerous bottles of Old Style greeting me. I reached out to take one then, but my opposite hand smacked my progress and I drew back, wondering how and why my body would react so violently to such a thing. Shaking my head, it was as if I suddenly remembered the pregnancy, and slammed the door behind me. Crossing my arms, I leaned up against the fridge and slipped down it, pushing my back against it and just staring at the ceiling.

"What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?" I muttered to myself, putting my head back into my hands again. "What. The. Actual. Fuck?!"

"Kiddo? That you?"

I raised my eyes then at the sound of the familiar voice, as well as the footsteps on the stairs, and felt my mouth opening automatically when Pops stepped into the kitchen. Shakily, I got to my feet then, while he stood there, open-mouthed, at the state I was in. Unable to keep my emotions in check anymore, I bolted across the kitchen towards him and threw myself into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder.

"Kid, you okay? What's going on?"

"Dad…" I whispered then, my voice breaking, calling him by the name I'd frequently reserved for my mother's husband, but the emotions running through me were way too high to over-analyse a thing.

"Iana, come on. Talk to me. What's going on here?"

I pulled back from him then, slowly, and wrapped my arms around myself, shaking my head. "I majorly fucked up this time…"

"What'd you do?" he asked. "You find out you made a B in one class instead of all A's? You already got accepted into Northwestern, kid. I think it'll be fine…"

I scoffed then, turning away from him. "Jesus. It's not about fucking school or my fucking grades, for Christ's sake…"

"Okay," he replied, looking me over then, and getting a good look at my left arm for the first time, his eyes widening. "What's that?"

"Oh, for the love of… I got inked in New York."

"Christ, Iana. How'd you even…?"

I turned and looked at him, growing slightly impatient. "I fucked the drop-dead-gorgeous tattoo artist," I said. "Her name was Lola, and she was amazing."

Pops dragged his hand through his hair. "Jesus…"

I reached out and shoved his shoulder slightly. "I'm fucking with you. Franny got me a fake I.D. before I left for New York."

Pops rolled his eyes. "How old did you make yourself?"

"Just eighteen," I said, rolling my shoulders, and doing my best to get the tears out of my eyes, knowing that I was so close to a waterworks show, but unknowing how to call it back anymore, due to the day I'd had… "Went to a couple of clubs, too; solo, of course, you know how protective Aunt Fiona can be. Also, I got raging drunk, which, in hindsight, was probably not a good idea…"

"Not a good idea?" Pops asked as I heard footsteps coming down the stairs behind him. "What the fuck do you mean—?!"

"Iana!" said Uncle Ian, stepped into the kitchen and immediately gravitating towards me, but stopped when he got a good look at my facial expression and body language. "What the fuck's up with you?"

I sighed, lifting up one of my hands and dragging it down my face. "Look, I know I promised you guys and Mom that I'd be careful when it came to my exploits, but it seems I wasn't as careful as I thought…"

Uncle Ian looked shell shocked then, looking me up and down. "Did… Did one of your partners give you something?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

Pops's eyes went from me to Uncle Ian and back again, and he paled instantly. "No fucking way did my daughter get an STD!" he shouted then, stepping towards me then and taking ahold of my arms. "Kiddo, please. Tell me that you didn't—!"

"No, I don't have anything like that!" I cried out then, yanking myself away from him. "I have something, but it's not HIV or gonorrhea or chlamydia… Promise."

"Okay," Pops said, visibly relaxing then as he mulled over my words.

Uncle Ian regarded me then, and his lips parted. "Iana… Iana, you're not…?"

"Not what?!" Pops demanded, staring Uncle Ian down then before his allowed his eyes to gravitate back towards me. "No… Iana…"

I sighed then, my shoulders slacking as my eyes filled with tears. "May as well shout it from the rooftops or some shit," I muttered then, a bitter chuckle escaping my lips as I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling, "because I'm fucking pregnant."

"Fuck," Pops said then, and I lowered my eyes.

"You okay?" Uncle Ian asked.

I bit my lip, lowering my eyes. "I don't know…"

"You know what you want to do?" Pops wanted to know.

I swallowed then, mulling over the answer in my mind. "Yeah," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't… I don't want it. I got accepted into college, and I have plans in my life, plans that don't revolve around raising kids. I want to get a degree and make something of myself, and that doesn't include being a mom. I'm not cut out to be a mother."

"Is that what you think, kiddo?"

"Mick's right, Iana. We've seen you with Clayton, Fionn, Carla, Charlie, Ezra… You're great with kids…"

"I may be great with them, but that doesn't mean I want them!" I cried out then, locking my eyes with theirs. "Besides, I'm sixteen. Sixteen! I'm still young, and I have, you know, those plans, and I don't want a sack of water on my hip, screaming every two minutes…"

Pops chuckled. "They don't scream every two minutes…"

"Pops, get real," I said, crossing my arms. "Uncle Ian did way more for Yevgeny than you ever did, then Svetlana moved out, then you went to jail, and fled to Mexico, and have you ever even try to track him down? Well, have you?" I demanded then, my voice trembling slightly, as I stared at him.

Pops visibly swallowed then, the emotions written all over his face. "No, Iana. You're the only one of my kids I have in my life…"

"You say it like you've got more than me and Yevgeny…"

"There aren't," Uncle Ian said firmly, although I was unsure if he was saying it for my benefit or for his.

"Whatever," I muttered, leaning against the kitchen island. "I have a doctor's appointment next week to ensure that I'm as far along as I think I am, and then I'll likely have to tell Mom and Dad so that our insurance can get the abortion taken care of…"

Pops sighed, turning and looking at Uncle Ian for a moment, who seemed to get the hidden message, because he turned around and headed back upstairs. Pops reached out then and put an arm around my shoulder, before he guided me into the living room and pulled me down beside him on the couch. Always creatures of habit, my father and I, I found myself automatically shifting downwards on the cushions, and positioning my head upon his shoulder, as I'd often done, since he returned into my life permanently when I was nine.

"You know, you don't have to do what society tells girls to do in your position, Iana," Pops told me, his voice gentle.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I do."

"No, you don't," he said, his voice firmer this time. "Look, Debbie and Franny did it. Plus, your mom was only five years older than you were when she had you. Sure, she had Ian, Fiona, Lip, Debs, and even Liam to help her out, what with Carl at the military academy so much, but she managed to do it."

I sighed. "The difference between me and Mom is the fact that she was lied to by a medical professional, who claimed that she couldn't have children, despite wanting them from the time she was a teenager," I said. "And I know that, if it weren't for you, she wouldn't have…"

Pops sighed then, and I picked up my head, and was immediately on edge when I saw that he wasn't looking at me. "Your mother had a boyfriend before we had our one-night-stand in Mexico," he said quietly.

I blinked. "A boyfriend?" I asked, confused. "I mean, I knew that she hooked up with you, and then dated Josh, before getting with Dad, and then there was Tommy for a while there…" I shuddered as I said his name, the loathing never leaving me. "But I didn't know that there was another boyfriend…"

Pops leaned back against the couch, elongating his neck so that he was now staring at the ceiling, a sigh causing his whole body to experience a tremor. "Yeah, she had another boyfriend. It got to the point that she had to wait several weeks before she could do a DNA test, and if I hadn't been the father…"

"What are you saying?" I whispered then, my voice trembling. "Are you saying that my mother wouldn't have kept me, if…?"

"Iana, it's not that simple," Pops said, looking at me, at last. "It's not that she wouldn't have wanted to keep you. It's that she couldn't have kept you…"

"Couldn't have…?" I weighed those words in my mind then, mulling over why she couldn't have kept me. "Who was it?" I whispered then.

Pops shook his head. "Iana…"

"No, who the fuck was it?!" I demanded then, my voice shaking as tears filled my eyes. "What the fuck happened…?!"

"Before your mom moved to South Side, or back to, she was raised in Seattle," Pops said carefully then, not wanting to upset me further. "She didn't get along with her adopted family, as I'm sure she told you, so when she got the job opportunity out here, at the firm where she met Nicholas, she took the job and came back here. She didn't know who her biological family was, so when she met them, she had no way of knowing…"

"What are you saying right now?" I whispered, shaking my head at him. "I don't… You're not saying that she…?"

Pops dragged both hands over his face. "Before your mom knew who she was, she sang at The Alibi Room for some extra cash before the job at the firm kicked in," he went on. "Kev introduced her to Lip, thinking that he needed to meet a nice girl…"

I shook my head then, my heart beating in my ears as I attempted to wrap my head around what Pops was telling me. "No…"

"They dated for a few weeks," Pops said, almost as if that justified all of this. "I only know about the one time that they...you know," he said, deliberately looking away from me. "The next day, though, Murphy found out who she was. That's why she ran to Mexico; it was because she was scared and angry. We met at a bar, got drunk, and then we hooked up in their restroom. It wasn't romantic or anything; in fact, we were too hammered to even remember what happened. She'll tell you that it comes in flashes, and it's like that for me, too. All I can tell you is that I know for sure that it happened, because you're right here."

I scoffed then, saying nothing as I backed out of the living room, yanking the front door open and running down the porch steps. I ran towards the gate, throwing it open and running into the street, making a beeline for my car, which I promptly unlocked and got inside. Sticking the key into the ignition and pulling the door behind me, I set a direct course for Patsy's, not wanting to wait until Mom got off work to talk to her about this. I drove the ten minutes towards the diner, only stopping when a sign or a light forced me to, and when I finally arrived, I pulled automatically into the alley, nearly upsetting the gigantic trash bins located just beside the employee parking spaces.

I let myself out of my car and walked in the back door of the diner, heading through the employee locker room and down the hallway, past the kitchen, and towards my mother's office. I didn't even bother knocking; instead I turned the doorknob and pushed myself in, my mother immediately getting to her feet, a surprised smile on her face, for she hadn't seen me since she and Dad had driven me to the airport a week before. I knew I needed to talk to her, and as I stood before her, ready to launch into my interrogation session, she got a good look at my arm, and instantly moved to shut her office door behind me.

"Iana Phillipa Gallagher-Blomqvist, what the fuck is that?!" she demanded, yanking my arm towards her and scrutinizing it.

"It's something I like to call, 'You fucked your brother'," I replied without missing a beat, and my mother immediately flinched, dropping my arm, and going pale. "What?" I demanded then, my voice quiet but forceful. "Don't you have anything to say to that?"

My mother shook her head then, obviously attempting to clear it. "My first question would rightfully be, 'What the fuck are you talking about'?!"

"Pops told me," I replied.

My mother dragged her hand through her red hair. "Christ," she whispered.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, spare me the theatrics!" I shouted then, my voice shaking with fear, not wanting any of this to be true. "He fucking told me, Mom. About you and Uncle Lip. That you guys dated and that you thought that he was my biological father and that, if he was, you would've had an abortion!"

My mother dragged her hands down her face then as she raised her eyes to mine. "Honey, you need to understand that because we're biologically brother and sister…"

"I understand that," I said, crossing my arms. "What I don't understand is why the fuck didn't you bother telling me?"

"I was going to tell you," she said quietly, "when you turned eighteen. I was going to tell you everything you wanted to know, baby. Really, I was…"

"Really?" I said, my tone scathing. "I'm not sure if I buy that."

"Iana…"

"No, Mom, I'm tired of all this," I said, shaking my head. "You told me that shit was going to be different, and I classify 'different' as 'no more lies'."

She bit her lip then as she leaned back against the wall of her office. "Yeah. Yeah, I can see why that would be appealing…"

"Oh, can you?" I said, feeling the hot, angry tears drip down my face, as I struggled to keep my voice in check. "No. No, I'm not sure you do."

"What do you want from me, Iana?" she asked me then, her tone level, as she slowly turned and looked at me. "I'm a mother. I'm a wife. I run a home, own a restaurant. I do lawyer gigs on the side every now and then. I've got five children, including you…"

"I stopped being a kid when I was five, Mom. You know it, and I know it," I said, my voice shaking then, and there was no calling it back. "I had to fucking raise Clayton and Fionn when we were living with Uncle Ian. I never stopped, in case you didn't notice. Parenting is a full-time job, but I still managed to do it, despite my dealings with Principal Monroe. I still managed to make good grades, come here to work at the diner, and make sure that the boys were doing well in school, and with everything else."

She nodded. "I know, honey. And I'm grateful, for everything you've done…"

"You don't know about everything I've done!" I burst out then, my voice hinging somewhere between rage and despair.

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" I asked myself, scoffing then. "Well, let me see. After you ditched us, Uncle Ian still had to work the night shifts at work. Liam was in high school, and, as a resident genius, he made it in with the popular crowd, so he'd be out partying a lot. Aunt Fiona was in New York with Uncle Jimmy already; Aunt Debbie was busy with Franny and work. Uncle Carl was raising the ranks at West Point, and Uncle Lip had just gotten promoted to co-manager of the shop, so he was constantly working with Brad. So, who do you think was watching us?"

"Kev and V?" Mom asked.

I sighed. "Sometimes, but they had the girls to consider, plus The Alibi," I said quietly. "They couldn't always be on hand to take care of us whenever. So, I had to step us," I told her. "I learned how to cook without burning the house down; I learned how to change diapers without risk of infection; I learned how to bathe someone other than myself without potential drowning mishaps; I learned how to work a fucking washing machine without flooding the whole goddamn house. I learned the routes to the boys' daycare, dropping them off every morning, and still managed to get myself to school on time. And then, at night, when it was time for the boys to go to bed, they would fucking cry. All night long, pretty much five to six nights a week. And what would I do? I wouldn't tell them to shut up, even though my mind was either screaming that or, 'Go the fuck to sleep'. No; I fucking held them and soothed them, letting them know that shit was going to work itself out eventually. And even though they sometimes wouldn't settle until after three a.m., I would still sit there, in the dark, and keep calm, telling them to do the same. I wouldn't get to bed for hours after that, though; I'd clean the house before Uncle Ian got home, so that he wouldn't have to. Because I knew he had it hard, too; on his days off, he'd take over every task, every little detail. But I did it at least six times a week, and did I ever complain about it? No. Not once. And do you know why I didn't? Because the boys and I were out of options, and I wasn't about to let them down like you let us down."

My mother's dark eyes were filled with pain at my words, but I had no idea if she felt bad for me and the boys, or guilt for her part in it. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't know that it was as bad as all that. I'm truly sorry, Iana…"

I kept my arms crossed around my rigid frame, not wanting her to come closer to me as I leaned against the door of her office, the furthest I could possibly be from her at the moment. "Look, I know you said you were doing right by Dad when you sent him away, hooked up with Tommy, and ditched us." I sighed then, my shoulders deflating automatically. "It's just too bad you didn't get rid of us fast enough…"

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?!" she demanded.

"It fucking means that Tommy liked absolute power, apparently, and he didn't discriminate when it came to age," I replied, my tone bitter.

My mother looked enraged then, gripping the edges of her desk, almost as if she was physically restraining herself from lashing out. "I'll fucking kill him…"

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter. He's locked up anyway. Not like he can get to me now. And, if he so much as comes near me again, I'll be the one doing the killing."

She hesitated for a moment then, and I wondered then if she was attempting to phrase her thoughts in a way which wouldn't be offensive to me. "Look, honey, I get that you're upset about all this, and I understand your reasons, but… Did something happen? In New York?"

I shook my head at her; regardless of what had transpired here today, I was not ready to tell her about the pregnancy. "No," I replied. "Nothing happened in New York."

She nodded, albeit slowly, as she searched my face, and I could see that she knew I was hiding something, but decided not to pressure me into telling her. "Okay, baby," she said, her tone calm for a moment then. "Was there anything else you needed to…?"

"No," I said then, the heat and the rage, formally bubbling just beneath the surface, now burned off by the screaming I'd just done. "Nothing else, Mom."

"Okay, sweetheart. I'll be home in time for dinner. I bought some steaks and pasta, to make steak and mac and cheese, your favorite. Dad will be home, too, and he'll bring the boys, plus Carla and Charlie, as well."

"Where are they?" I asked. "Dad's at the firm, but…"

"Clayton and Fionn had their young architect's meeting, and Carla and Charlie are with Grandma Allie today," she replied.

 _Again_? I thought to myself. "Okay," I said with a slight shrug.

She tried her best to smile. "Debbie is coming over later with Franny and Ezra. And Ian and Mickey will be coming over, too…"

"Even though Pops said what he said to me?" I asked.

"This is about your homecoming, sweetheart, and I know you'll want them there. I heard from Lip that he and Mandy will be joining us, too."

"You like Mandy?" I asked.

She sighed. "I know that she and Fiona didn't really get along, but Mandy and I are becoming fast friends," she replied. "I really do like her. She's great for Lip, and she's one of the few people who understands…well, our past."

"It couldn't have been easy for you," I said quietly.

She shrugged. "Not a lot of things are, honey," she replied.

. . .

After the family get-together, I trudged up the stairs, relieved that my parents seemed perfectly willing to do the household clean up that night. I got into my bedroom then, shutting the door behind me and taking off my tank top and jeans, and stood before the mirror again, placing my hands on my hips and regarding the slight bump. I knew then, as Franny had, that unless you really scrutinized it, it really wasn't that noticeable. I unhooked my bra next, tossing it into my hamper and retrieving a looser tank top from my dresser, pulling it on, and was relieved when it was able to conceal most of the expansion I was now forced to deal with.

I heard a rattling outside my window then and, immediately on my guard, crossed my bedroom then and advanced towards the frame, opening up the curtains and peering outside into the sunset-filled night. "Liam?!" I hissed, throwing open the window and sticking my head out the frame, shaking my head. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled up at me then, climbing up the ladder expertly, and hesitated at the top, a little shrug escaping his shoulders. "Missed you."

I blinked. "You did?"

He nodded. "Yeah. It's been a week."

I stammered for a moment, before methodically standing back, and allowing him access into my bedroom. I walked around him then and shut the window and curtains quickly, before turning around to face him. "Missed you, too," I said, not looking at him.

"Hey, what do we have here?" he asked, gently reaching out for my arm, my heart hammering immediately as he traced my skin around the cast, which I'd replaced after my shower earlier on that afternoon. "You get inked up in New York?"

I nodded, not wanting him to stop touching me, despite my face flushing, and my heart pounding a mile a minute. "Yeah," I replied, somehow managing to speak without stammering.

"Surprised you could find someplace willing to do it…"

"I used a fake," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Liam raised his eyebrows. "Impressive."

"Thanks," I said quietly.

"Hey," Liam said, tilting my chin up slightly, so as my eyes locked with his, and I was literal putty in his hands. "Are you okay?"

I nodded; no way in hell I was telling him now. "I… I'm fine," I replied. "I guess you could say I'm just a little overwhelmed with…all this."

He nodded. "It's understandable. You've got college in two months. There's a lot to do and a lot to think about."

 _Right on the money there_ , _Sherlock_ , I think to myself. "Yeah, I know," I replied, shaking my head then as I felt more tears escaping my eyes. "There's just so much to deal with and so little time and I'm afraid to leave the boys…"

"Hey, look at me," Liam said, and I looked back up at him. "I'm sure the boys are going to be fine, Iana. And besides, you can't sacrifice your entire life for them. You've given them so much already, and it's time to spread your wings and live."

I nodded. "I know…" I hesitated for a moment then, taking a deep breath as I forced the following words from my lips. "Listen, could you stay with me tonight?"

Liam sighed. "Look, I don't want to upset you…"

"No, not for that," I said, forcing myself to keep looking at him. "Just… I just need you to hold me tonight, please. I… I need you…"

"Iana, I can't," he said then, his expression crestfallen.

I stepped towards him then, taking ahold of his face into my hands. "Liam, look at me," I said, my voice firm. "Yeah, you can," I said, once his eyes had locked onto mine. "I've seen you for who you are, and you're not this bad boy. You're not."

"You don't know what I'm capable of, Iana…"

I shook my head. "And it doesn't matter to me. You don't know what I'm capable of either. And I'm asking you, as my friend, to be my friend right now. I need your friendship now more than ever, so please… Just come over here and hold me…"

Liam's silver eyes are locked onto mine, and they appear to be completely haunted. "I'm not a good guy, Iana…"

I smiled up at him. "And I'm not a good girl, Liam. But I need you." I took him by the hand and pulled him gently towards my bed, before taking off his leather jacket, black business shoes, socks, and black business slacks. I pulled him into bed beside me then, and wrapped my arms around him, just holding him to me, knowing that he needed this as much as I did.

Liam remained stiff in my arms as I reached over and turned off the lamp on my bedside table, illuminating the room in darkness. "Iana…"

In the darkness of my bedroom, I leaned forward and pressed my lips gently to his forehead and, for some strange reason, Liam seemed to automatically relax in my arms. "Sleep," I whispered to him, cradling him in my arms. "Just sleep."

. . .

I make my way to my doctor's appointment the following week on my own, still feeling unsure of the eventual outcome. I give my name to the front desk of Dr. Lennox's section, and take the offered in-take form, sitting in the waiting room and scrawling down the necessary information on the sheet. I bit my lip, looking around; the place hadn't changed much since I was a kid, and I was quite positive my mother sat in this same area at one time or another, when she was pregnant with me. I remembered how she told me how supportive Uncle Ian was of her during that trying time, and I wished I could've been more open with my family, and tell them about all that I was going through…

"Iana Gallagher-Blomqvist?"

I quickly got to my feet, handing over the intake form to the nurse, and answering her questions as we went into an exam room. I saw the ultrasound machine was already set up, and my stomach flip-flopped then. I perched on the exam table, extending my arm so that the doctor could take a vial of my blood, just to make sure I was pregnant. The thick band of rubber was snapped onto my arm, and the nurse sanitized the area before she got the appropriate needle and the vial needed to collect the sample. Once it was taken, she went out into the hallway and put a rush on it to the lab on sight, before she read my intake form and took note of all the symptoms that I was experiencing.

"Dr. Lennox should be back shortly with your results," she said brightly after a couple of minutes before leaving the room.

I leaned back against the exam table, staring up at the ceiling, folding my hands unconsciously over my stomach, before I promptly threw them off and lay them down at my sides. This baby, if there even was a baby, was a fucking alien parasite and nothing more. I wouldn't permit myself to bond with it, because it was a hindrance to all the plans I'd made for myself. I knew that I should've been more careful, or at least checked to see if my birth control pills had been tampered with somehow but it was far too late for that now.

Once the door swung open again, I sat up as Dr. Lennox stepped through, paperwork in her hands, and I knew she had the results of my blood work done, likely performed via a rush order, as my parents were one of her top patients, due to my father's work with the firm. "And how are we today, Iana?"

I sighed. "Wanting answers, I guess, Dr. Lennox…"

She nodded. "Understood," she replied. She regarded the documents in her hands then, and sighed, knowing that I wouldn't like what she had to say. "Well, Iana, the urine test results you took a week ago were accurate. You are indeed pregnant."

I swallowed then, hunching my shoulders slightly at the news. "Okay," I replied.

Dr. Lennox nodded. "If you like, I can give you an ultrasound, so we can see what we're dealing with here."

I nodded. "You're the doctor."

"Okay," she replied. Dr. Lennox dimmed the lights of the room and flipped on the ultrasound machine, instructing me to roll up my shirt while she got the gel out. She warmed it up for a moment whilst getting the wand wrapped up in plastic, before she gently placed it on my stomach, moving it around to get a clear picture. "You're estimation of eight weeks seemed to be spot-on, although you're more likely at nine weeks now," she said, and I just stared at the ceiling, forcing myself not to engage.

"Great," I replied, with no emotion whatsoever.

"Oh, and that little fluttering," Dr. Lennox said, either unaware that I wasn't paying attention or attempting to get me to do so, "is your baby's heartbeat. You won't hear anything for another month or so, but that fluttering, its size, and everything looks great."

"Glad to hear it," I said, in the same tone of voice.

"And there we have it," she said, completing the procedure and promptly taking the wand off my stomach. She handed me a washcloth to get the gel off my skin before she flipped the machine off and turned on the lights. "Now, I'll get you a pamphlet of do's and don'ts, of course. And will you be wanting pictures?"

I shook my head. "I won't be needing any of that," I replied, my tone clipped. "Skip on the vitamins, too; you really don't need to bother."

"Oh," Dr. Lennox said, her tone neutral as she pondered her next words carefully. "I take it then that you will want to terminate the pregnancy?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Best not to get attached, if you know what I mean."

"Of course," she replied. "But, and I'm not trying to talk you out of this, Iana, this decision should not be rushed into. Give it a week or two, and then call me. We'll have a consultation about it, and then we usually schedule the abortion for a week after that. Does that sound all right to you?" she wanted to know.

I nodded, straightening my clothes as I got to my feet. "As soon as I can get back to life as I know it, the better."

Dr. Lennox sighed. "Iana, I want to impress upon you that, no matter what decision you make here, life as you know it will never be the same."

I swallowed then, and shook my head. "Well, it's gonna be for me," I replied, making my way over towards the door. "It's gotta be," I went on, not sure if I was talking to her or to myself as I slipped out the door.


	8. Sympathy For the Devil

Chapter Eight: Sympathy For the Devil

"You busy today?"

I take in Mandy's words then as I slowly remove the bandage from on top of my tattoo, which I'd been given the clear to remove completely, although I would have to continually slather it with sunscreen for the time being, due to the hot, early-August weather. "No, not busy. I've got the day off," I replied.

"Great," she replied, "so do Lip and me. Want to come by?"

"Sure," I replied, not having seen them since they'd had steaks at the house, after my return from New York. "I'll be over in an hour. That work for you?"

"Perfect," Mandy replied. "See you then."

I hung up my phone then, hooking it back up to the charger and getting the last of my bandage off my tattoo, the black, pointed thorns giving way to bright-red roses amongst them. I smiled, pleased at Lola's work, and yet knew that a federal crime had been committed by me using a fake I.D., and for her believing it. Shaking my head, I got up from my bed and went into my dresser, grabbing a random pair of black denim shorts, plus a tank top that would conceal my bump ever so slightly.

In the weeks that had followed my appointment, only Franny, Pops, Uncle Ian, Cheryl, and now Dr. Lennox knew of my pregnancy. I knew that it was only a matter of time before anyone else managed to catch on, or if I decided to let anyone else in on the secret. All I did know, at this point, was that getting attached was forbidden, as I'd made my decision. There was no turning back now, and with an appointment with Dr. Lennox for my consultation for my abortion booked for the following afternoon, I knew I couldn't afford to risk it.

Stepping into my sneakers and lacing them up, I dragged a brush through my raven mane, allowing it to remain down, flowing down my back. I grabbed my set of keys and my phone, and left my bedroom, shutting the door behind me and trekking downstairs. Dad would be at the firm already, and Mom at the diner, while Clayton and Fionn were likely sleeping in, and Carla and Charlie were at Grandma Allie's again. I did my best to keep quiet as I trudged over to the kitchen, still having some time to kill before I went to go see Mandy and Uncle Lip.

I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, seeing the box of pizza from the night before, and my stomach immediately started growling. I dived in for it, placing it onto the counter as I kicked the fridge door shut with my foot, inhaling the tell-tale scent of sausage as I flipped the box open. I immediately grabbed a slice, chewing it quickly, and savoring every bite as the meaty sausage seemed to burst into my mouth. Once I finished that slice, I started on a second one, and continued in this way of chewing, completely enjoying myself. However, about halfway through my second piece, my chewing slowed, and I stared down at the piece, still gripped in an excited manner in my hand. I felt the bite in my mouth then, weighing it on my tongue, and felt my stomach turning immediately. I dropped the slice back into the box, gripping the counter then and hurling all that I'd eaten into the sink.

"Fuck," I whispered, turning on the water into a cool stream, taking some into my mouth and washing it off. I was unable to get the gross taste out, however, so, after tossing what was left of the second slice of pizza I'd attempted to eat—all the while holding my breath to prevent my stomach from expelling its contents again—and stowed the box back in the fridge.

Heading back upstairs—gripping onto the bannister tightly to prevent a potential fainting spell—I made it to my bathroom and shut the door. I crossed over to the sink, hastily brushing my teeth to get the sausage taste out of my mouth, before I rinsed my mouth out one final time and washed my hands. I checked my phone then, seeing that I could leave the house now and still arrive at an appropriate time, and so I headed out of my bathroom and bedroom, before going downstairs again and out the front door.

I headed directly towards my car, opening it automatically and getting inside, sticking my key into the ignition and firing it up. I set the course for Mandy and Uncle Lip's apartment, knowing that, with lunch-hour traffic being what it was, I was in for about fifteen minutes on the road. I drove through the sunshine, pulling my sunglasses down from the visor so as to help keep my eyes on the road, making my way down the various streets, taking note of the businesses and street signs as I went, never wanting to get lost. I hadn't been over to the apartment since before my trip to New York, and I was pleased for the invitation, although I would be careful not to bring it up to Aunt Fiona, who could be very protective of me.

Once I arrived at the building, I pulled my car to one side of it and parked, slipping from the vehicle and making my way towards the main doors. I waved to the doorman, who remembered me from previous visits, and because Mandy had put me on the admittance list. I made my way over to the elevator, clicking the button and waiting for it to arrive. Once it did, I stepped inside and pressed the correct floor, my stomach somersaulting slightly at the jarring sensation that always happened when the pulley system was activated. The double doors dings a moment later and I went out into the hallway, making my way down until I came to Mandy's unit, whereupon I knocked and waited.

"Iana," Mandy said, her voice filled with enthusiasm as she pulled me in for a hug. "Lip stepped out to get us something to eat. You hungry?"

"Uh, sure," I said, forcing a smile onto my face, knowing I had to play it cool.

"He went to the diner to pick up some burgers and pie. Sound okay?"

I nodded; anything but pizza sounded wonderful at this point. "That's always okay. Thanks for providing lunch," I replied.

Mandy nodded. "Sure, no problem."

We walked into the living room area, sitting on the same couch when we'd first met one another, over a month before. It was so hard to believe that so much had happened in the last month, or two months; or my entire life, for that matter. As I briefly considered this, Mandy caught sight of my arm, her face immediately looking excited, and I extended it towards her, so as to allow her to get a better look.

"You get this done in New York?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. The artist was really cool."

" _This_ is really cool!" she said, gently turning my arm this way and that so as to get the full view of the thorns. "You have to go back several times?"

"Just to get the roses colored in, so two sessions," I replied. "The second one only took about an hour and a half."

"And the first session?"

"Four hours."

"How'd you pull it off?" she asked, finally letting my arm go and looking up at me. "I mean, I know that Fiona would never…"

I laughed aloud then, nodding. "No, you're right, she wouldn't have. I used a fake," I said, and shrugged my shoulders.

Mandy raised an eyebrow. "How'd your mom take it?"

I scoffed then. "How any stereotypical parent would. She totally freaked out."

"Your mom is great," Mandy said with a smile. "She just wants what's best for you, and I'm sure she would've rathered you got permission."

I leaned back against the couch cushions, self-consciously picking up a pillow and holding it in front of me. "Yeah, I guess you're right…"

Mandy scrutinizes me then, almost as if she's looking for something, but can't quite put her finger on it. "You okay?"

I snap my gaze to hers then, willing myself not to flush. "Fine," I replied, hating my voice for shaking slightly. "Why do you ask?"

She shook her head then, her raven hair, as dark as my own, swishing ever so slightly around her pretty face. "No, it's just… You seem a little…different."

I laughed aloud then, knowing that it sounded hollow, and Mandy could sense it. "No, it's fine, really. I just… Ate a little too much gourmet food while I was in New York. Aunt Fiona and Uncle Jimmy took me out a few times and, well… I'm just feeling a little uncomfortable because I want to look good when college starts…"

Mandy raises a perfectly-arched eyebrow. "I never thought you were one to consider appearance so much," she said. "I mean, you always look great, but, it just never seemed to be the most important thing…"

"Hello, beautiful ladies!" Uncle Lip said, trooping into the apartment and kicking the door shut behind him as he stepped into the living room. "Well, if it isn't my beautiful girlfriend and my favorite niece."

I rolled my eyes. "Christ, Uncle Lip," I said, laughing again. "You know as well as I do that Franny is your favorite niece. But I'm Uncle Ian's favorite, so it's all good."

Uncle Lip laughed, setting down the bags from the diner and going through them. "Got you your favorite, Iana—cheeseburger with cheddar, mayonnaise, fried onion straws, and pickles," he said proudly. "I got it right, right?"

I smiled; for some reason, I felt like I could go for that right about now. "You're right," I said, reaching out and taking the correctly-labeled burger. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem," Uncle Lip replies, handing Mandy a burger and a shake. "I'll pop the pies in the fridge; got you chocolate creme today, Iana," he calls over his shoulder, "and that shake over there is for you."

I smiled, leaning forward and seeing the sharpied 'V' on the disposable cup, pleased that Uncle Lip remembered my favorite milkshake flavor. I dipped my straw in, stirring the thick concoction and doing my best to make a trail before I proceeded the traditional sucking motion. I shut my eyes on a wave of pleasure, followed by trepidation, hoping that I'd given my stomach enough time to settle before attempting to fill it again. I vaguely heard Uncle Lip returning to the living room and promptly snapped my eyes open, setting the milkshake back down onto the coffee table and tentatively picking up my burger. Pulling back the paper wrapping, the steaming scent of the beef came upwards, hitting directly into my nostrils, and I felt my stomach growling. I felt relieved then, and took a bite, savoring the creaminess of the mayonnaise cut through by the brine of the pickles.

"You get a look at Iana's arm yet?" Mandy asked as Uncle Lip returned to the living room. "Just look at what she's been up to in New York."

Uncle Lip approached me then, raising his eyebrows as he took a look at my left arm. "Jesus, Iana, you sure went all-in."

I shrugged, taking another bite of my burger. "Hey, what can I say? I like what I like and I'm not ashamed to admit that."

"How'd your mom react to it?" he wanted to know, getting his burger out of the back and snuggling up next to Mandy on the couch.

"As you'd expect," I replied. "She wasn't too thrilled. I don't get it. I mean, she has tattoos. Why is me getting one such a big deal?"

"Because she was in her twenties when she got them," Uncle Lip said, always having to be so fucking rational. "Although, she didn't get the third one until after Nicholas came back to South Side for good…"

I nearly choked on my burger. "She got another one?"

"Yeah, to match his."

"Jesus, they have matching tattoos?!" I demanded, my mouth half-full in my shock. "Man, even when you thought you heard everything…"

Mandy hesitated for a moment then before she turned and looked at Uncle Lip, and, finally, turned her gaze back onto me. "So…when were you going to tell us?"

I had, by this time, swallowed my bite of burger and bitten off another, as my eyes rolled from one of them to the other. "What?" I asked, my tone half-muffled, due to the rather large bite of burger in my mouth.

Uncle Lip sighed. "Not to sound so on-the-nose about it, Iana, but it's fairly obvious what's going on here," he replied.

I swallowed my burger then, the bite nearly choking me in my shock. Clearing my throat before it could kill me, I leaned back onto the couch cushions, burger sill in my hand, and finally lowered my eyes, guilt and disappointment washing over me. "Okay. Who the fuck told you and who do I have to fucking kill?"

"Nobody had to tell us, Iana," Mandy replied, her tone gentle, non-accusatory. "It's just that, well, Lip knows you really well, and I know my brother. You're pretty much the same as he and I were growing up—tough, resilient, stubborn to the core… I know when something's going on with one of my own, and I do all I can to make sure they're okay."

I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth, keeping a good grip on it with my teeth as I mulled over what Mandy was saying. "I get what you're saying…"

"So, it's true then?" she asked, her tone quiet. "You're pregnant?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm pretty pregnant…"

"How pregnant is 'pretty pregnant'?" Uncle Lip wanted to know.

"As of today, I'm nearly eleven weeks," I replied.

Mandy nodded. "Who knows?"

"Pops and Uncle Ian," I said quietly. "Plus Franny—she's the one who brought me the test. I texted her when I got off the plane at O'Hare…"

"Your mom doesn't know yet? Or Nicholas?" Uncle Lip asked.

I sighed. "They've been suspicious as hell towards me, because my appetite, shall we say, is decidedly different since…since all this happened…"

Uncle Lip looked uncomfortable for a moment before he asked, "Who's is it?"

Mandy turned and glared at him. "Lip!" she shouted.

"What?!" he demanded. "I can ask my niece a question, can't I?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not like that, you can't…"

"Come on, Mandy," Uncle Lip said, dragging his free hand across his face. "All I'm saying is, is that Iana likes to have a lot of fun with the opposite sex…"

"And the same sex," I muttered, but they neither of them heard me.

Mandy threw up her hands then. "Are you fucking serious right now?!"

I rolled my eyes as I chewed my burger, watching them interact. If they were anything like Pops and Uncle Ian, or Mom and Dad, then there was always a big blow-up before a fucking. I knew then that, if it reached the point of no return, then I would have to potentially have to make a run for it. Not that I minded people in my life having sex lives; I just didn't want to see or hear any of the sordid details.

Uncle Lip dragged a hand across his face. "Just tell me one thing, Iana—it's not that guy in his twenties that you were fucking, was it?"

"Really?" Mandy asked, looking over at him.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered. "No. And his name is Liam," I replied, and Uncle Lip looked slightly weirded out for a moment. "But the guy… He's just a guy I went to high school with, so there's nothing to worry about."

"So, you don't have feelings for him?" Mandy asked.

I scoffed. "Fuck no," I replied, finishing my burger and crumpling up the wrapper. "No. Pretty much the worst sex I've ever had…"

"Not to him, it wasn't," Uncle Lip muttered.

Mandy elbowed him in the stomach, causing Uncle Lip to scream, "Fuck!" and get up, heading into the kitchen while Mandy rolled her eyes. "Men," she said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry it wasn't a better time for you."

I shrugged. "Hey, as long as this thing can get out of me, all the better…"

"You sure that's what you want?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure it's what I want. I don't want to be a fucking ghetto stereotype with a squalling sack of water on my hip for all eternity…"

Mandy smiled. "I'm totally supportive in whatever you choose, even though you totally don't need my support, because you're strong and independent. But, just so you know, I'm always here if you want to talk. Speaking from the point of view of someone who has been in your shoes, once upon a time…"

I sighed, reaching out towards her then and taking her hand in mine. "Well, of course there was no way that you could've made another decision," I replied, giving her a small smile. "I mean, he was your dad…"

"And your grandpa," Mandy put in quietly.

I shuddered. "Unfortunately, yeah…"

"Other than the time he grabbed you," Mandy said, "I mean… Do you ever see him?"

I shook my head at her. "No. Mom pretty much kept me separated from him from the get-go, and even after Pops came back, Pops said that we had to keep me away from him. And, god knows, he was right. He's just so fucking psycho…"

"Your mom was probably right," Mandy said, gently pulling her hand from mine and leaning back against the couch. "He's sick. Too bad Mick and I constantly defended him growing up. We probably didn't know what would've happened if we didn't…"

"You stuck together," I replied, and she turned and looked at me. "Any self-respecting siblings would've done the same thing."

Mandy bit her lip then, shifting around then so that she faced me; her body was lengthwise on the couch, her head being propped up by a perfectly-manicured hand. "Other than Tommy, you ever get beaten growing up?"

I shook my head. "Never. And when Pops came back, he taught me everything he knew. How to fight, how to shoot a gun; I'm a walking death trap, according to him. I can take down anyone who attempts to cross me. I'm half-Milkovich, after all; gotta stay ahead of the curve."

"Count yourself lucky," Mandy said, lowering her eyes.

I nodded. "I do, in that regard," I reply. "I'm just glad you were able to get yourself out of that situation. Now you're with Uncle Lip like you always should've been, and you two seem happy together…"

Mandy smiled. "Yeah, we're happy. I'm glad it worked out."

"You…you ever wish you talked him him? That day?" I asked, my tone quiet, as Mandy's eyes locked to mine. "After Uncle Ian did you a solid?"

She shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "And do you know why? Because I still wasn't ready to admit to myself fully that he wasn't ready for me yet. I was ready for him a long time ago; it just took him a little longer to realize what he wanted…"

"Ready," I muttered, suddenly becoming aware of my own dilemma.

"You okay?" she asked.

I sighed, turning to look at her again. "No idea," I said softly. "I mean… All I've ever known was motherhood. From an early age, I had the role handed over to me, and if I hadn't accepted it wholeheartedly, god knows what would've happened to the boys. Social Services would've likely stepped in and grabbed all three of us. By me keeping my mouth shut about our living conditions and doing well enough with the boys, I was able to conceal the fact that I was the one doing all the mothering, and now…"

"Now what?"

"Now I feel myself painted into the role all over again," I replied. "With this pregnancy, all I can see is sleepless nights, dirty diapers, crying… All the bullshit I had to put up with in my formative years; it's coming back to haunt me. And I've been given the opportunity to get out of here, to go to my dad's alma mater, and to make something of myself. Sure, I always intended on coming back, but on my own terms, you know? And I'm sixteen… Jesus," I muttered, getting to my feet and dragging my hands through my hair. "I'm six-fucking-teen. That's what I keep coming back to, out of everything… All I can see is the notion that I'll be a young mother who'll never reach her full potential, get a degree, get a job, get a life…"

"You can still have a life, Iana," Mandy replied, getting to her feet; she stood in front of me then, impeding my pacing process, as she placed her hands on my shoulders. "It just may not be the life you planned out for yourself."

I sighed. "Even if I don't have this baby?" I whispered.

Mandy nodded. "Even then, Iana, it likely won't be the life you planned out for yourself, had you not gotten pregnant."

I felt the tears pricking at the backs of my eyes then. "Fuck," I whispered. I felt myself trembling then as Mandy pulled me into her arms without hesitation, just holding me silently for several moments until my sobs had subsided.

. . .

"And how have you been feeling these past two weeks?" Dr. Lennox asked, as I did my best to pay attention to her. "I know I said only a week between appointments, but we suddenly got slammed last week. I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

 _No_ , _just that my entire life as I know it is about to change forever_ , I thought to myself. "No, Dr. Lennox, it's fine, really."

"Great," she said, smiling brightly at me as she snapped on her gloves. "I'm going to have you lie back now so that we can take a look at what's going on in there. Okay?"

I nodded, leaning back the as I rolled up my shirt to the baseline of my bra, adjusting my hair on the pillow behind me, so as it fanned out and didn't get tangled and clumped. "Whatever you need to do, doc," I replied.

Dr. Lennox did her best to keep smiling as she procured the gel out of the fridge; because it was such a warm day, she didn't bother to warm it up beforehand, and I didn't ask her to. She put the plastic around the tip of the wand and flicked on the ultrasound machine, before she squirted the gel onto my stomach and brought the wand in contact with my skin. "And here we are," she said then, "your baby is forming nicely."

Before my mind could convince me otherwise, I turned my head and saw the outline of a baby upon the screen, and my jaw fell open at what I saw. I found, looking at it, that I did not feel contempt any longer for the little thing growing inside me; it sure as shit wasn't love, far from it, but the notion that my body was capable of growing such a thing…

"That's it?" I asked, my voice quiet.

"That's your baby," Dr. Lennox confirmed, pointing to a fluttering motion on the screen. "And there's the heartbeat."

"Christ," I whispered, relieved that I wasn't crying. "That's pretty cool."

Dr. Lennox nodded, flicking off the machine and turning on the lights shortly thereafter before handing me a warm washcloth to get the gel off my stomach. She didn't ask me if I wanted photos of the ultrasound and I didn't tell her to the contrary. "What are you thinking at this point, Iana?" she asked.

"What?" I asked, stupidly, as I continually dragged the warm washcloth over the exposed skin of my stomach.

"Do you want to make an appointment for the abortion, or would you like to continue on with the pregnancy?" she asked.

I swallowed then, forbidding my emotions to get the better of me as I completed the washcloth task. "I want to have the procedure," I replied, handing her the washcloth. My voice was completely deadpan, and while that was not lost on Dr. Lennox, she knew that she had to do what I, the patient, wanted.

She nodded. "That's completely understandable," she replied, heading over towards her computer and calling up her calendar. "My next available appointment is in nineteen days. Will that work for you, Iana?"

I nodded, yanking down and smoothing my shirt over my stomach. "Yeah, that's great," I replied, knowing that this gave me enough time to figure out how to tell my parents. "I'll take the appointment, Dr. Lennox."

I methodically went through the motions of saying goodbye to her and taking the appointment card, whereupon I left the exam room and, in a haze, managed to find the waiting room. I made sure my car keys were still in my pocket, my cell phone in the opposite one, as I made my way down the hallway and towards the exit. Stepping outside into the August sunshine, I walked over to my car and unlocked it, before pulling open the door and sitting down, slamming it behind me as I stared out my windshield. I rolled my shoulders, leaning back slightly to retrieve my keys, and stuck them into the ignition. I ran my hands over the steering wheel for a moment, before I turned the keys and backed out of the space.

I drove over the freeway and towards the neighborhood, humming along to the song on the radio station I was listening to. Finally, when I'd driven past the main streets and onto our drag, I found I didn't want to go home yet. I bit my lip, knowing what I really wanted to do, and also fully understanding the consequences behind it. However, I was done allowing the demons from my past to take over completely, and I just wanted some of the doubt to end. Pulling to a stop in front of the dreaded house, I remained inside my car for a moment, remembering my mother's and Pop's warnings never to go in.

"Guess it's all in the family," I muttered.

I yanked the keys out of the ignition then and got out of my car, slamming and locking the door behind me. I went onto the sidewalk and pushed open the gate, the metal in desperate need of oiling as I stepped through it. I forced fear out of my very being as I stepped up the rickety-looking stairs, and formed my hand into a fist, rapping on the door loudly, a shout emitting from within. I felt my expression harden automatically then, as I listened to the shuffling footsteps, and drew myself up to my full height as the battered-looking door finally seemed to squeak open.

"The fuck do you want?" demanded Terry, looking bleary-eyed, almost as if he'd passed out on the couch in a drunken stupor. He wore a stained wife beater, along with boxer shorts that hung loosely on him, which didn't leave much to the imagination.

I narrowed my eyes at him, knowing full well I wasn't going to deal with his shit. "Do you know who I am?" I fired back at him.

Terry spat in a corner just inside his doorway. "No. Should I?"

"Fucking Christ, you're a drunk," I muttered to myself, and his eyes flashed in warning. "I'm Mickey's daughter," I replied, my voice hard.

"Mick had a daughter?!" Terry demanded then, looking me over. "Which woman he manage to knock up after Svetlana left him?"

"My mother," I replied, crossing my arms.

"And who's your mother?"

"Murphy Gallagher, Ian's twin sister," I replied.

"Ian? That red-headed fuck?!"

Immediately, and without hesitation, I reached out then and grabbed Terry roughly by the collar, slamming him up against the back of his door, causing him to look terrified. "I really wouldn't want to piss me off right now, you sorry and pathetic excuse for a human being," I said, speaking through my teeth.

"Why?! You a faggot, too?!"

"Fucking hell," I muttered to myself. "Ian's my namesake. I'm Iana," I said, and Terry looked disgusted at the implication.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" Terry said.

"'One of them'?!" I demanded, shaking my head. "The fuck are you talking about?!"

"You fuck everyone, don't you? All kinds!"

I rolled my eyes. "If you're implying that I've fucked women in my day, yeah, not that it's any of your business," I said, growing impatient with him. "Now," I said, curling my fist around his shirt tighter, so that my nails scratched his chest, "let's get to the purpose of my coming here in the first place…"

"If it means you'll leave me the fuck alone," he replied, stiffening and shutting his eyes as my nails scratched at him.

I let him go then, knocking his head back against the door, rendering him dazed. "This is for Mandy," I said, curling my fingers into a ball around my palm, and sucker-punching him square in the jaw. "This is for Pops," I went on, and kicked him in the balls. "This is for Uncle Ian," I continued, slamming my forehead into his nose, so that his blood spattered onto me. "And this, this is for me," I finished, punching him over and over in the face, never knowing if or when I was going to stop. When my knuckles were bruised and I felt his blood running down my face, I finally stopped my assault of him, and Terry crumpled in the doorway. "Asshole," I said, kicking at him then as I turned my back on him.

I went down the stairs, careful not to trip and fall as I returned to my car, quickly getting inside and driving away. I drove down the street, towards my house, my heart hammering in my chest at what I had done. Once I'd pulled up into my spot and turned off my car, I pulled down the visor then, and stared at myself. My eyes were wide, and Terry's blood down my face was a stark contrast to my pale white skin. I lowered my eyes to my knuckles, which were slightly caked in Terry's blood as well, and the skin beneath was turning purple. Shaking my head, I got out of the car, making my way across the street and inside the gate. Swallowing slightly, I turned the knob and found it unlocked; as I stepped inside, I heard Pops and Uncle Ian talking and laughing in the kitchen. Stepping closer, I knew that it was now or never as I kicked the door shut behind me, and Pops immediately looked to see who was coming in unannounced.

"Fuck, Iana!" he yelled then, crossing the door and looking me over. "Who the fuck did this to you?! Are you okay?!"

"Jesus, what'd you do?!" Uncle Ian demanded then, taking in the injuries.

I scoffed then. "My hands are sore, but I'll just need some ice," I replied, and they both looked at me like I was insane. "This isn't my blood, although I'm positive that if a lab compared it, they would, unfortunately, find some similarities."

Uncle Ian sighed. "Who'd you kill?"

I laughed aloud. "He's not dead. Wish I killed him, though…"

"Him?" Pops demanded then, looking shocked at my words. "Iana…"

"Yeah?" I asked, crossing into the kitchen, feeling the both of them at my heels as I walked into the bathroom, and began to wash my face and hands. There was blood caked to my outfit as well, so I knew I'd have to figure out a way to get across the street unnoticed. However, in our neighborhood, this could've just been a regular day…

"Who'd you beat?" Pops asked.

I ran a towel under some warm water then, and proceeded to clean off my face expertly, before I turned and looked at Pops. "Terry," I replied.

Uncle Ian looked shocked. "You serious?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm serious," I replied, finishing up with cleaning my face before I began to wash my hands.

"Why?" Pops wanted to know.

I sighed, my shoulders slacking then as I finished washing my hands. I walked back out into the kitchen and tossed the washcloth into the washing machine, before I went over to the freezer and found a bag of frozen peas. "It's obvious, isn't it?" I asked, leaning back up against the counter as I rested the peas on my hand. "Asshole deserved it."


	9. I'm Just a Shadow

Chapter Nine: I'm Just a Shadow

"Iana, you obviously weren't thinking this through," Uncle Ian said as he watched me, standing there against the counter in the kitchen. "I mean, you're pregnant, and your hormones must be all over the place," he went on, and I nipped at my bottom lip, so as to prevent myself from crying out as I held the frozen peas against my bruised knuckles.

"We need to get you out of those clothes," Pops said heavily then, and I snapped my eyes to his, and, with a shrug of my shoulders, set the bag of peas down and yanked off my tank top before I made my way over to the dryer, where I found one of Pops's shirts.

"Should we burn it?" I asked, tossing it on top of the washing machine. "You think Terry'll call the cops or something?"

"No idea," Pops replied, taking ahold of my shirt and weighing it in his hands as I pulled his shirt on over my head. "But we've definitely got to get rid of this."

"We'll get rid of it," Uncle Ian said then, watching Pops gripping onto the material. "We're not going to let you get locked up, Iana. Terry had it coming to him. He did," he went on, shooting Pops a look, almost as if he was challenging him to disagree.

I sighed, rolling my shoulders. "Let's just hope he was still breathing when I left him there, in a heap, in the doorway," I muttered.

Pops looks shocked for a moment. "Iana, you didn't…"

"No, of course not, just being overdramatic. He was breathing, don't worry," I said, adjusting the bag of peas on my knuckles again. "Nothing to worry about."

Uncle Ian looked relieved then as he reached out and took my top from Pops. "I'll go get rid of this," he said in the silence that followed. "Keep an eye on her…" He said, his voice quiet, directed entirely at Pops.

Pops turned and looked at Uncle Ian. "Don't have to ask me twice."

Uncle Ian gave Pops a hard smile then, before he reached out and touched his cheek, leaning in and kissing him before slipping out the back door.

"It's not like you seriously need to keep an eye on me," I said quickly, hoisting myself up onto the counter, and wincing slightly, as I realized my wrists were likely busted slightly from the constant punches at Terry's face. "I mean, I've had enough for one day. I'm not gonna go out and give Terry, or anyone else, another beat down…"

Pops sighed, crossing his arms and leaning up against another counter, kitty-corner, from me, and regarded me for a moment. "Sure, kid."

I felt my brows knit together then as I rested my head back upon a cabinet. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He gave me the same expression I gave him, so as it was seriously like looking into a mirror. "I mean, you're a Milkovich, kid. Half-Milkovich, or whatever. We can be unpredictable, to say the least, and we're not good when it comes to…you know, drama."

I scoffed, rolling my shoulders as I transferred the pack of peas onto my other hand. "Sheesh, Pop, I'm really fine."

"Are you? Fine?" he asked, and something in his voice made me want space.

"Yeah," I said, my tone more heated than necessary as I hopped off the counter, and trudged into the living room. "Completely and utterly fine."

"Hey," Pops said, going after me and yanking me around by my shoulder. "Don't walk away from this, Iana. I'm talking to you."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

"Hey," he said again, smacking my shoulder gently. "I'm still your father, no matter what. And I know when something's going on with you. Now, what's going on?"

I shook my head, deliberately avoiding his gaze, and settling on a piece of living room flooring that was particularly worn. "Nothing," I replied.

"Iana," Pops said, his voice firm, causing my eyes to snap to his. "I mean it. Tell me right now what's going on, or so help me…"

"I had another doctor's appointment today, okay?!" I said, and, for the life of me, I couldn't help but allow my voice to shake.

Pops blinked. "Yeah? Everything okay?"

"It was the fucking consultation okay, Pops?" I whispered, raising my eyes to the ceiling then, unable to prevent the hot tears from escaping my eyes.

"You schedule the abortion then?"

I nodded stiffly, unable to take my eyes from the ceiling. "All set up, just like it was supposed to be from the beginning…"

"You doing okay?"

I sighed then, shutting my eyes as a muffled sob made its way through my body. "I made the stupid mistake of looking at the fucking monitor," I whispered, dropping the pack of peas to the ground as I covered my face with my hands.

"Iana…"

"I saw my fucking baby," I said, my voice muffled from behind my hands. "I fucking saw the baby and now…"

"You having second thoughts?"

"No," I said vehemently then, dragging my hands down my face and shaking my head. "I can't just turn back now…"

"Why not? It's not too late…"

"Not too late?!" I demanded, shaking my head. "Do you hear yourself right now?!"

"Iana…"

"No, listen," I said, my voice firm. "I completely lost it today. I completely lost it and went on a fucking rampage and do you know why?!"

Pops looked utterly shell shocked then, suddenly seeming to understand my behavioral changes throughout the past couple of weeks. "Iana, you off your meds?"

I sighed, nodding my head. "Yeah," I said, a massive load off my shoulders when I finally managed to say it out loud to someone. "I stopped taking them right before I got my acceptance into Northwestern."

"Fuck," Pops whispers, shaking his head.

"I'm too fucking irresponsible to take care of a child," I said, shaking my head. "If I go off my fucking meds like this…"

"Iana, it's okay, it's okay," Pops said then, stepping forward and pulling me into his arms. "You know what we're going to do? We're going to fix this. I'll help you."

"I'm not like Uncle Ian…" I whispered.

"You're like all of us," Pops said gently.

I sighed, continuing to sob in his arms. "Something's wrong with me…"

"Good," Pops said, smoothing my hair as he held me. "There's shit wrong with all of us, Iana, but the point is that you realize it."

I nodded, trying to hold back my sobs, but I was unable to do so. "And you'll help me?" I asked him, my voice quiet.

Pops pulled back, kissing my forehead. "Always," he replied.

. . .

"Iana, are you insane?! I mean, what were you thinking?! Do you realize what you could've done to your body?!"

"Your mother's right, Iana. It was a stupid, stupid thing to do."

"Don't you think she knows that, Nicholas? She's already beaten herself up enough about it. She is totally freaked."

"Of course you would say that, Mickey. Look, I know she's your daughter, too, and I respect the hell out of that, but sometimes, you've gotta let Murphy parent her way…"

"Parent her way?! If I'd let her do that, Iana would be ignored constantly. Why do you think Ian and I haven't moved! It's for her!"

"What? Not so you can interfere with me and Nicholas?"

"Murphy, you know that's not true!"

"How could it not be true? She's always over at your place whenever she's not working! That, or she's over with Mandy and Lip…"

"You have a problem with my family, Nicholas? Say it to my face."

"Mickey, don't you dare threaten him!"

"Murph, I can fight my own battles…"

"Guys, guys! I don't think this is good for Iana!"

It was amazing that seventy-five-percent of my parental figures had been arguing, and yet, only twenty-five percent of them had finally acknowledged me, sitting there, on the couch, as the three of them continued yelling above me. I'd given up attempting to get a word in a good twenty minutes ago; it wouldn't have done any good, I saw that now. And as I sat there, hands knotted in my lap, vision blurry with half-unshed tears, I did my best to deal with the rage coming off of all three of them. Of course, it was Pops who was the ultimate savior, and I knew I shouldn't have been surprised by now, him always having my back and all, but I couldn't help but wonder why I was so difficult for Mom and Dad to love…

"You're right, it's not good for her," Mom said quickly, automatically jumping onto the bandwagon as her eyes snapped onto me.

"Well, do you have anything to say for yourself, Iana?" Dad asked.

"Don't talk to her that way!" Pops yelled.

"That's enough, Mick," Mom said firmly to Pops then. "Come on, Iana," she went on, her voice gentler this time as she moved to sit beside me on the couch. "Tell us what's going on with you, please," she begged, taking her hand in mine.

I yanked my hand out of hers.

"Iana, don't disrespect your mother that way!" Dad thundered.

"And I've told you, don't talk to Iana that way!" Pops yelled back. "I don't appreciate disrespect as much as the next person, but Iana's hurting here!"

"Her behavior is hurting my wife!"

"Your behavior is hurting my daughter!"

"Our daughter!" Dad screamed.

"Nicholas, Mick, please!" Mom cried out.

"Shut the fuck up, all of you!" I screamed, leaping to my feet. "I never wanted any of this, but look, it's what we've got! I'm sick and tired of being fought over like I'm some goddamned commodity or a fucking piece of meat! I'm a fucking human being," I said, looking at one of them after another. "I'm a fucking human being who is tired of all this bullshit. I'm so fucking tired of all of it," I whispered. "You only talk to me whenever you need me to do something at the diner, or to tell me I'm doing something wrong!" I said loudly, jabbing an irate finger in my mother's direction. "And you," I said, pointing at Dad, "you only talk to me whenever you need me to watch the kids or if I'm not being polite enough for your taste!" I felt the tears continuing to flow down my face then, unknowing when this would end. "And Pops?" I said. "Pops is just amazing. Sure, he's imperfect, but so am I. And I'm sick and tired of being bullied and pushed around, molded to what you two want me to be. I'm not your daughter," I said, pointing at Dad then and shaking my head. "The hyphen in my name is a lie, and I'm fucking tired of it. I'm a Gallagher and a Milkovich; Blomqvist doesn't belong anywhere in my name."

"Iana!" my mother screamed. "Apologize!"

I whirled around to face her then, narrowing my eyes at her and shaking my head. "No," I told her, my voice firm. "I'm done, fucking done, with all of this," I said, making my way towards the front door.

Despite the screams calling me back, I ignored them all and dashed down the stairs, and towards my car, letting myself inside and locking all my doors. I dashed the tears from my eyes, hearing my mother, Pops, and Nicholas yelling at me and slamming their fists into the car, so as to call me back to them, but I didn't listen. Sticking my key into the ignition, I pressed onto the gas pedal and and drove as quickly as I could down the street and into the distance.

. . .

I pulled up outside the luxurious building which housed Liam's penthouse, one that I never anticipated showing up at, under any circumstances whatsoever. The building was black with silver accents, which was totally perfect for someone like Liam. I used the code for the parking garage, that Liam had given me for emergency purposes, and pulled into the lot, finding a space close by the elevator. Hopping out of the car, I made my way towards the elevator and clicked the 'up' button before getting inside, pressing the penthouse button and feeling my heart hammering in my throat as the elevator jolted upwards.

I'd considered running to Mandy and Uncle Lip's, but given what my mother's husband had said, and given their knowledge of my running there so often, I knew I needed to get out of my comfort zone a little bit. And besides, I figured, it's not like any of them would think to look for me at the penthouse of Liam Kennedy. Swallowing, I leaned up against the back of the elevator as it continued its climb, crossing my arms and nipping at my lips, so as to keep the tears completely at bay. I couldn't allow myself to cry anymore; I wasn't ever going to allow myself to appear vulnerable to anyone, because appearing vulnerable meant that you meant something to someone, and I couldn't have Liam thinking that. We were just friends, and we couldn't ever be anything more than that.

The elevator doors, at long last, dinged open, and I raised my eyebrows at the black marble with walnut wall accents that I walked into. There was a stone fountain to the right, which trickled actual water, sending a wave of calm through me as I stepped out of the elevator. To the left was a walnut end table, boasting a vase of white lilies. There was a painting hanging above the walnut end table, which I knew to be by John William Waterhouse, and was called _The Lady of Shalott_ , based on the poem of the same name. Stepping forward, I curled my fingers into a fist and hastily knocked at the walnut door before me, hoping beyond hope that Liam wasn't busy with anyone or anything, and wouldn't care that I was showing up unannounced.

"Kennedy," came his voice from the intercom system.

"Liam," I said quietly, willing for my voice not to break. "It's me. Iana."

There was a click from the opposite side of the door then and, perplexed, I reached for the chrome embossed handle, and pushed it downwards. To my surprise, the entire door gave and I shoved it open with my shoulder, and stepped into the penthouse. Not even a photographer from Vanity Fair could capture the elegance of Liam's home, I saw that now; with Victorian furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows, it was every inch my dream pad. The door clicked shut behind me, bringing me back to reality as I stepped into the living room, and spotted Liam, who immediately came down the slightly winding staircase to me, his beautiful face etched with concern as he approached me then.

"Iana?" he asked, coming close to me then. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "I'm sorry, it's just my fucking family," I replied. "I know that I shouldn't be bothering you with all my teenager bullshit…"

"Iana, it's okay, really…"

I scoffed then, hating it when tears escaped my eyes. "I'm sorry, really. I just didn't know where else to go," I managed to get out.

Liam nodded. "I understand," he replied, placing one hand on my shoulder. "Hey, hey," he said gently, turning my face to face him, "you're always welcome to talk to me or come and see me, Iana, really. We're friends; they help each other."

"Am I interrupting your work?" I asked, looking at him up and down.

Liam was dressed in a pair of business slacks and a white button-down shirt, with the first two buttons undone; he just as soon could've come from some sort of gala or benefit dinner. Throw a pair of patent leather shoes on his feet and a dark jacket around his lean yet muscular frame, and you could've been in business.

"No, you're not interrupting anything, Iana," he assured me, his voice remaining gentle. "Of course you're not. You're always welcome, I told you that."

"Yeah, but you… You must've had something you were doing tonight," I protested. "I know how in-demand you are, Liam…"

He smirked. "Really? You do?"

I sighed. "I may have a vague idea, Mr. Ego…"

He chuckled. "It was a just a charity auction for a new cancer wing in a hospital downtown," he told me carefully. "It's all over and done with now; I was just a guest speaker."

I cocked an eyebrow. " _Just_ a guest speaker?"

He grinned. "I may have put forth seventy-five-percent of the money, and the hospital may have named the wing after me."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Of course they did…"

"Come on," he said, squeezing my shoulder gently. "Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you here, Iana?"

I sighed, knowing full well that if I told him something, anything, then he was likely to push me away for good and I couldn't have that, not now. "Please, don't," I whispered then, my voice breaking slightly as I stepped forward, pulling him in close and feeling my senses going to overdrive as I inhaled his scent.

"Iana, I really think it'd be better if…"

"Please," I said, my voice soft as I looked up at him then, and our eyes locked. "Don't make me say it, please," I went on. "Just…"

"What?" he asked. "What can I do?"

"Help me," I said.

He nodded. "Of course, Iana. Anything…"

"Then help me forget," I whispered, standing on my toes so that I was closer to his lips. "Please, I need this. I need…"

Liam looked haunted at my request then, as his hands slipped from my face and shoulder respectively and traced their way down my hips. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "I'm sure. Please…" I said, just the right amount of need in my tone. "I just need to be held… Hold me. Do it," I said softly.

"Just held?"

I stuck my tongue out slowly then, dragging it over my bottom lip first, followed by my top, and felt his entire body stiffen at my movement. "What do you think?" I asked him, once I'd returned my tongue to my mouth.

"Are you sure you want this?"

"I'm sure I need this," I replied, and took one of his hands, permitting it to touch my breasts. "I want you. I'm not asking, Liam, I'm telling. I want you."

There was a glint to Liam's look upon me then; he didn't need me telling him twice. He slipped his hand back to my hips, where he yanked me the rest of the way to him, and my mouth was suddenly on his. I was suddenly aware of him lifting me then, and the sudden movements of him climbing the staircase. Once we'd reached the top, he took me down the hallway and into his bedroom, shutting the door behind us with his foot. He set me down gently onto the bed, but I wasn't having that.

Reaching up then, I yanked him forward, unbuttoning his shirt hastily and throwing up my hands as he attempted to rid me of my clothes as well. My heart was pounding in my ears again as we worked to get the other naked, and, once the goal was achieved, I pulled him down into the bed with me, winding my legs around his torso. I didn't give him time to get protection; I just pulled him closer and closer still, until we were at the point of no return. I bit my lip and kept my eyes lowered; I couldn't help it. I was bringing deception to a whole new level, and, although I could never fully admit it, I hated myself for it.

"You're so beautiful," Liam whispered then, tracing my cheekbone and causing my eyes to lock with his again. "Do you realize how beautiful you are?"

I swallowed then, wanting so much to thank him, or to return the compliment, but I couldn't say anything. Instead, I reached around to the back of Liam's head and pulled him closer to me, and our breath mutually caught in our throat then at our closeness. Finally, almost as if we were to the point of questioning why the sky was blue, Liam's lips met mine again, and I was literally jumping over the moon and catching stars.

. . .

My eyes snapped open as the silvery light of dawn attempted to sneak its way through the small parted section of Liam's curtains. I sat bolt upright then, looking beside me, seeing Liam's arm falling back onto the bed, from where it had been wrapped around me. Turning in the semi-darkness, I saw the it was almost six a.m., and I knew that there would be consequences, not only for running away, but for staying out all night without calling.

I got out of Liam's massive bed quickly, tripping in the darkness as I gathered my clothes and dressed quickly. In one pocket, I front a hair tie, which I used to pull my hair into a state of semi-organization. I picked up my sneakers then, leaving Liam's bedroom in stockinged feet as I dashed back down the hallway, down the staircase, and through the living room. I got to the door and pulled it open, running through the foyer and pressing the 'down' button as frantically as I'd ever dared before. My heart was hammering in my throat again as the elevator arrived, and I pulled my sneakers on, lacing them quickly before I got my phone out of my pocket.

What greeted me was a screen of total and complete madness. There were over a dozen text messages and missed calls, and I felt sick just looking at them. The texts were from Mom, her husband, Pops, Uncle Ian, Uncle Lip, Mandy, Aunt Debbie, and even Aunt Fiona. There were a give five or so from Franny, who told me to get over to her apartment asap, letting me know that she had covered for me and that I was thought to be there. Breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that I'd be able to take a shower and change before heading back to the lion's den, I got out of the elevator and made my way over to my car.

I unlocked it quickly and got inside, not even taking a moment to collect myself before I drove out of that parking garage and back across town. It took me twenty minutes to get to Franny's apartment building, and the normal shock that I was back to reality didn't come as I parked right out front. I got out of my car and locked up, making my way up the outside stairs to Franny's unit and promptly knocked on the door. Usually, I would've used my key, but I was so wired from the night before that I didn't trust myself not to drop my keys and wake everyone in this hell hole up.

"There you are!" Franny cried as she opened the door, yanking me inside. "Ezra's still in bed, so it's all clear," she told me, kicking his dump truck toy to the side and slamming the door behind me before she locked me over. "Jesus. You look like hell. What the fuck happened?! Your parents, plus Mickey and Uncle Ian, have been calling me since last night after you just up and ran out of the house. What's been going on with you?"

I sighed. "You tell them?" I asked, looking around. "I mean, are they here?"

"No, they're not here. Once I lied and said you showed up, they stopped calling and told me to get you to go home tomorrow, which is today. I said you came in close to midnight, all freaked out, and that you just wanted to crash, so I let you…" She sighed, dragging her hands through her hair. "Look, Iana, you're my best friend, and my cousin, so I'm obligated to love you to death, and I do, but… What the fuck's been up with you?"

I swallowed then, knowing that I had to give her something, considering that she covered for me without me even having to ask. "Look, it's complicated," I said, holding up my hand to prevent a barrage of comebacks coming out of her mouth. "I know, I know. It was stupid and irresponsible of me, but I had to get out of there."

Franny nodded, moving me gently so that I was sitting on the couch and then, after thinking about it for a moment, sat down beside me. "Okay. What happened last night then? There must've been something to make you run off like that…"

I scoffed. "Oh, believe me, there was."

"Tell me, then."

"Mom, the husband," I snarled, and Franny raised her eyebrows, but said nothing, "and Pops were all going at it. Fighting."

She nodded. "About what?"

"What else? About me."

Franny sighed. "Jesus."

"You're not kidding," I replied. "Mom and her husband were pissed about a situation about me that only Pops and Uncle Ian knew about. Uncle Ian had to work a double, so he was unable to speak in his own defense, so Pops had to continuously defend himself and me, while Mom and her husband were just yelling insults at him and at me…"

"Where were Clayton, Fionn, Carla, and Charlie while all of this was going on?" Franny wanted to know. "I may be a teen mom, Iana, but I know that fighting like that isn't good for little kids to be around."

"At Grandpa Hugo and Grandma Allie's," I replied with a shrug.

"Why do you never go over there?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I go over there…"

"Yeah, when it's a big family dinner. But when was the last time you spent the night there or something like that?"

I bit my lip. "I pretty much cut them out of my life after Mom let Tommy move in and she kicked me, Clayton, and Fionn out of the house. Grandma Allie tried to make a case for Uncle Ian being an unfit guardian, and Grandpa Hugo backed her up. I vehemently denied their claims and told the social services and the court that I knew someone who could make us disappear, that guy Mason, and so I threatened that I'd disappear with Uncle Ian and the boys. I don't know what happened after that, but their bid for custody was thrown out."

"So, back to last night," Franny said, after taking a moment to absorb all my adoptive grandparent drama, "did you just sit there and take it?"

I shook my head. "You know me. Of course I didn't."

"Okay," she said. "So, what happened?"

"I explained that her husband wasn't my father, and that I was sick and tired of being used as a means to an end. And that I wasn't a fucking commodity to them. The sooner that my mother and her husband get that, the better."

"So, they were fighting about you?"

I sighed then, my shoulders readily deflating as I brought my knees up towards my chest, wrapping my arms around them, which was proving slightly difficult due to the growing invader in my stomach. "Yeah," I muttered.

"Anything specifically?"

I nodded. "Big time."

"Care to share?" Franny asked, growing slightly impatient.

I raised my eyes to hers then, willing for my senses not to give way to tears and, somehow, just managed to hold it together. "I'm off my meds, Franny."

Franny raised her eyebrows. "You're off your…?"

"Aunt Iana!" came a shout from the back room then and, turning, three-year-old Ezra came running out into the living room, and I immediately got to my feet.

"Hey, buddy!" I cried out then, scooping him into my arms and kissing his forehead. "How're you doing this morning?"

"Fine!" Ezra cried, nuzzling into my neck and throwing his arms around me. "Mama, can I have pancakes?" he asked.

Franny sighed, giving me a look that said our conversation would definitely be tabled. "Yeah, of course, honey," she replied, getting to her feet. "I'll get right on those. Why don't you pick a book to read while Aunt Iana goes to take a shower?"

"Now?" Ezra asked, pulling me closer. "I want Aunt Iana to read to me…"

I smiled indulgently then at Ezra, kissing his forehead again. "And I will, as soon as I've showered," I told him, the eyes of Colin Monroe meeting mine, but not frightening me as they once had done. "I've just got to shower and change first, okay, bud?"

Ezra sighed, nodding his head then as he slipped from my arms. "I'll pick a book while you're in the shower!" he called.

"Can't wait!" I called back, making my way to the bathroom down the hallway.

I pulled a towel from the linen closet before I moved to the opposite side of the hall, getting into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me. Just as I undressed and threw my clothes onto the closed toilet, I felt my phone vibrating then. I moved to check it, seeing Liam's number and picture I took of him after one of our encounters in the Patsy's employee locker room staring back to me. I sighed, shaking my head for a minute before I swiped left on the red phone icon, and turned my phone off.


	10. Bittersweet Bonds

Chapter Ten: Bittersweet Bonds

 _I knew I couldn't stand against the side of the building forever, so I pushed myself off and walked back towards the gym. Taking in the air after Colin's failed attempts at kissing me, and doing god knows what else, was a huge relief as I stood in the doorway. I looked around and through the godforsaken disco lights, which flashed over every foreseeable surface, but I couldn't for the life of me see Franny._

 _My heart hammered in my chest as I walked back inside, my fists balled at my sides as I walked through the gym. I walked out the inside doors and into the hallway of the high school, knowing that I had to look inside the ladies' room first. I came to the nondescript black door, with the stereotypical woman plastered on its surface and pushed it open. However, all I saw were a handful of girls puking or adjusting their makeup, and none of them were Franny. I allowed the door to slam shut as I stumbled back into the hallway, knowing that I had to find Franny, and fast, because the very notion of where we were was enough now._

 _I walked down the rest of the hallway then, the sight of couples making out in various alcoves sickening to me as I continued. Shaking my head, I turned the corner, continuing down the next hallway, hoping that I'd be able to find her. I even ended up pulling out my phone and texting her, but there was nothing. However, about midway down the final hallway I decided to look down, I heard the sound of drunken laughter coming from a janitor's closet. I would recognize that laugh anywhere, I knew that, and as I neared the door and pushed it open, my mouth fell a good thousand feet at the sight staring back at me._

. . .

"Thanks for letting me take a shower," I said to Franny, once we'd all eaten too many pancakes and Ezra was down for the count for his mid-morning nap, after a grand total of four books. "I mean… Thanks for, you know, everything."

Franny crossed her arms. "Even the change of clothes?"

I rolled my eyes. "You know very well that you borrow my clothes, too, and that I've even left some clothes here…"

She scoffed. "Whatever."

"Thank god we both had off today," I said, leaning back on her couch and rolling my sore shoulders against it. "I really needed this…"

Franny sighed. "Look, I'm more than happy to have you here, Iana, but…"

I lifted my head then, confused by her tone. "What?"

"Well, I'd like to know if I'm harboring a fugitive or not," she replied, spreading her hands as she looked confused. "I mean… Where the hell were you last night?"

I lowered my eyes. "Oh. That."

"Yeah. That," she said, clearly concerned. "You couldn't have been at Uncle Ian and Mick's place because they would've said something to your parents," Franny went on. "And Uncle Lip and Mandy's place is out, too, because they denied seeing you."

I sighed. "Lucky me."

"What do you mean?"

I locked my eyes with hers. "They may have figured out about…" I waved my hand around my stomach. "…all of this."

"Christ, Iana," Franny said, dragging her hands through her hair. "Just tell me where the hell you were last night. Please."

"I was with Liam, okay?" I said, huffing a little then.

Franny straightened up then. "Liam? As in Liam Kennedy? As in that delectable and delicious twenty-one-year-old who spoke at our high school graduation?"

I pursed my lips. "I think delectable and delicious mean the same thing…"

"Don't correct me and focus here!" Franny said, clapping her hands. "So, you were with Liam Kennedy last night?"

I sighed. "Yeah, I already said that."

"You meet at the diner again?"

I shook my head. "No. Too obvious."

"Okay. So where were you?"

"I may have gone to his place…"

Franny raised her eyebrows. "His place?"

I swallowed then, hating the sensation of being backed into a corner. "Yeah. His place."

"Christ. What was it like?"

"Gorgeous," I replied.

"Was he expecting you?"

"No."

"Wait. You just showed up and he let you in?!"

I rolled my eyes. "Pretty much, yeah."

"And you were with him all night?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess I was…"

"Did you just sleep or did you talk…?"

I rolled my head back so as I was looking at the ceiling. "Jesus, Franny, this is me we're talking about here."

"You mean…? Oh, Iana, you didn't…"

"Of course we did, Franny. We fucked for hours like a pair of fucking rabbits."

"So, I take it you didn't tell him?"

"What's to tell him?" I asked, shrugging my shoulders. "I'm getting an abortion anyway. Once that happens…" I shrugged again. "…I'll just go off to Northwestern and get my degree and it'll be like this entire summer never happened."

"Iana, this is Liam's life, too…"

I shook my head. "I never made Liam any promises, and he didn't make me any either. We're just friends who like to have fun. He doesn't owe me a thing, just like I don't owe him a thing. I don't have to tell him I'm pregnant, because it's not his sperm connected to my damned egg and I'm getting rid of it."

"What would you do if it wasn't Andy's?"

I felt stiff then as I turned and looked at Franny. "What?"

"What would you do if the baby wasn't Andy's?"

I shook my head at her. "Don't call it a 'baby', Franny. It's not, and will never be a baby to me, under any circumstances whatsoever."

"Don't dodge the question on a technicality, Iana," Franny said, straightening up then. "I'm serious about this."

I rolled my eyes. "So am I. It's not a baby, and I'm getting an abortion."

"Just fucking listen to me for two seconds, Iana! What would you do if the baby was Liam's and not Andy's?!"

"I'd still get rid of it!" I yelled then, my voice raw then, as I got to my feet. "Because I'm tired of living here and I don't want to live and die here! It may be all right for you and my mother and the rest of this family but I'm so done with the South Side! I don't believe what people say; it can't be in my blood or define me. I want to go out there and make something of myself."

"But what about the diner?" Franny asked. "You still want to run it?"

I shrugged. "Maybe, I don't know. All I do know is that I have to get out of here while I still can, while I still have options, and while I still can get rid of this thing," I said, walking over to the front door, hating that my voice broke at the end there as I yanked it open with the last of my strength and slammed it behind me.

. . .

" _Give me your keys. I'm driving."_

 _Franny said nothing to me then, but merely handed over the keys of her borrowed car and leaned on me as I took her out into the parking lot. Her fishnets were ripped and her makeup was smeared with sweat; her hair was a complete haystack, and her heels were in her free hand. "I guess I should say 'thanks'..."_

 _I nearly stopped walking at the sound of her voice in my ear; her breath reeked of cheap vodka which the punch at the dance had been laced with; it was also distorted, due to her drunkenness at having had way too much. "Don't mention it," I replied, unlocking the car and getting her into the passenger seat and shutting the door. "Let's just hope Pops's under the table driving lessons come in handy," I went on as I got into the driver's seat. "God knows what'll happen if a cop pulls us over…"_

" _Your parents still at your grandparents tonight?"_

 _I nodded, sticking the keys into the ignition. "Yeah. Guess the whole thing about waiting for your child to be a sophisticated teenager didn't really work out for them," I went on as I turned to look behind me as I stepped on the gas and pulled carefully out of the space. "But you know as well as I do that I add three years to my true age, making me sixteen, not thirteen, which makes me technically legal to drive this beast of a thing…"_

" _I can stay at your house tonight?"_

" _Of course."_

" _Yay!" Franny laughed aloud then, the sound quickly being replaced by intermittent hiccups. "I guess I'm just sorry that your first school dance was a bust…"_

" _And last school dance," I muttered._

 _Franny slumped in her seat, her eyes growing heavy as I pulled out of the parking lot. "Sorry I stole your date…"_

 _I shook my head then, my stomach rolling at what I'd seen going on in the janitor's closet, and decided to keep my lips sealed about what had happened before that. "No problem. Guess you were more his type anyway," I said quietly, going down the dark street and keeping my fingers crossed that we wouldn't get pulled over._

. . .

I stared blankly through the windshield as I kept driving, knowing full well that I had to get home and likely explain myself. Franny had done the grunt-work of lying, allowing everyone to believe that I'd been at her place the night before. Sure, lying to anyone who was a part of your family could potentially bite you in the ass later, but I couldn't think about that, not now. All I could think about was the fact that, at the end of my conversation with Franny, I'd had a feeling of dread when it came to the potential harm of…

No. No, I wouldn't allow myself to be swayed, just because I'd had some time with Ezra that morning. Ezra was the exception to my "I hate young people" rule, and the only exception that was outside my quartet of siblings. Ezra, although whiny and demanding at times, was an intelligent breed of child who had a lot of love to give, and had quickly warmed to me from the time he was born. And, since Franny had no siblings, I became the aunt he'd obviously so coveted and needed, and I was more than happy to fill those shoes, despite the complicated beginnings Ezra had been faced with.

I pulled up in my space outside the house, hesitating for a moment before I pushed myself from the car and left the vehicle. Not wanting an interrogation session, I snuck by the front window, and spotted Mom, her husband, plus Pops and Uncle Ian, seated around the kitchen table, in the same clothes they'd been wearing since the night before. I continued around the house, grabbing ahold of my ladder and hoisting myself up it, and kept right on climbing until I reached the top-most point. Reaching into my pocket then, I grabbed out a credit card to get the window open from the outside, and, once the latch clicked open, hastily returned my card to my pocket and got inside my bedroom. I shut the window behind me then and perched on the edge of my bed, wondering if I was going to be expected to hold court in my bedroom or not.

"Kid? You doing okay?"

I don't turn around as Pops steps into my bedroom and shuts the door behind him. I sense him sitting on the opposite side of my bed; he places a hand on my shoulder, and I automatically lean backwards, letting him hold me against him as I continue staring out the window. "Fine. I'll be fine…once this is over," I say quietly.

"I know you feel that way, Iana, but this is happening now, whether any of us like it or not," he said quietly to me.

I stiffened at his words then as I pulled myself up, before I turned around and faced him. "You and Uncle Ian, you didn't…you didn't tell them that…"

Pops shook his head. "No, of course we didn't tell them, Iana. Promise."

I sighed, nodding then. "Right. Sorry. I know you wouldn't I'm just…just a little scattered right now, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Sure, yeah," Pops said, nodding. "So…where were you last night?"

I blinked, raising my eyes from where they'd been fixated on my hands, knotted and crumpled on top of my bedspread, and locking onto Pops's. "What?"

He smiled. "Iana, you're my daughter. Please. Franny's makeshift lie about you being over at her place last night didn't wash with me."

I let out a groan then as I lean back on my pillows, and Pops lies beside me, so that we are both staring up at the ceiling. "Who else figured it out?"

"Just Ian," he replied.

"Fuck," I whispered. "Mom and Nicholas must be really dumb or just naive…"

"You can still call him 'Dad', you know, Iana. It doesn't bother me…"

I shook my head. "Those days are over."

He sighed, obviously wanting to press for more, but also wanting information, so he decided not to push me for the moment. "So…where were you last night?" he asked again.

I bit my lip. "You really didn't believe the Franny story?"

"Not for a minute."

"Right," I replied, placing my hands onto my stomach for a fraction of a second before I promptly dragged them off and set them at my sides. "I was with Liam."

"I thought he was still in Los Angeles…"

"It's a three-year assignment," I replied. "Of course he is."

"There's no way you flew there and back…"

"Liam Kennedy, Pops," I said patiently.

"Oh, right, right," Pops said, and I rolled my eyes, knowing that he knew who I was talking about immediately. "So…you two spent the night together?"

I gave a stiff nod. "That's right."

"You tell him?"

I scoffed. "No, I didn't fucking tell him. Just like I told Franny, there's no reason to tell him, because he's not connected to this thing…"

Pops sighed. "So, I know, Ian and Franny know, plus Lip and Mandy… Does anyone else know about this…thing?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You gonna tell them?"

I sighed. "Maybe, when I go in for the appointment…"

"Iana, if you told them, maybe…"

"Look, Pops…I just got back on my meds yesterday. Mom and…him are pretty pissed at me right now as it is. There's no reason to make them even more upset with me."

Pops propped himself up on his elbow then, staring down at me. "You make it seem like they think you're a failure…"

I scoffed. "To them, I am. I failed the eighth grade three times…"

"Because that son of a bitch wouldn't pass you without you—"

"Please, don't say it," I said quietly, and Pops closed his mouth. "But there's lots of things I've done that they don't approve of. Like the violent things I take part in, or the fact that I've been having sex since I was fourteen. Plus the smoking and the drinking, which we never talk about but I'm sure they've smelled it on me…"

"You're _not_ a failure, Iana. You're my kid. You couldn't be a failure."

I sat up then, leaning against the headboard of my bed and letting out a sigh. "I'm fucking grateful to be your kid, Pops… It's like being a member of a club, I guess…"

"A club of two," he said quietly.

I sighed then. "I wonder where Yevgeny is…"

He spread his hands. "No idea."

I swallowed then. "Franny asked me what I'd do if the thing was Liam's and not Andy's," I told him, my voice quietly.

Pops turned and looked at me then. "What'd you say?"

"I said it didn't matter."

"Why doesn't it matter?"

"Because the end result would still be the same," I said quietly. "I'd still get an abortion regardless of who harvested the damn thing. I have a college acceptance, and I'm going. I am not going to stay here forever."

"It's great here, Iana," Pops said, and I turned to look at him. "Okay, it's not so great. But I've got Ian. I never thought I'd get him back and I did."

I smiled. "And I'm really glad you have someone like that, Pops. But that's just not in the cards for me. It never has been, and it never will be."

"How do you know?"

I sighed and shook my head. "Some things you just know about from the time you're a child. I guess I've always known."

"You're really sure about that?"

I nodded. "As sure as I've ever been about anything," I replied and, for once, was glad that I didn't allow my voice to crack.

. . .

It was back to reality over the next several days as I completed shifts at work, continued to not inform my mother and her husband about the pregnancy, and dodged Liam's phone calls. I did my best to smile as I waited the various tables at the diner, and ignored the swelling in my stomach and ankles as the days went by. My mother, if she was beginning to catch on, said nothing about it, and I did my best to focus on my work, pooling my tips so that I'd have some spending money once college began the following month.

On my fifth day at work that week, I was taking a break from waiting tables and helping with the dish washing in the kitchen. I had always liked the task of washing dishes for some reason; the warm water and the bubbling soap that gathered on the grease spots to cut through and ultimately clean them. My mother had again tried to corner me that morning, and several times during my shift at the diner that day, in an attempt to get me to talk to her. I kept assuring her that there was nothing wrong and had somehow managed to avoid her.

Once I finished the massive pile of dishes that was in the sink, I told the cook I was taking a smoke break and headed outside. Of course, I hadn't smoked a damned cigarette since I'd found out I was pregnant, which was silly, really, but I guess I was a goddamned compassionate human being, deep down. Rolling my eyes, I washed my hands before heading out through the employee locker room and stepped out into the warm August sunshine, leaning against the back of the diner and shutting my eyes for a moment.

"Iana."

I felt the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck automatically stand on end at the sound of that voice, and my eyes snapped open. Turning my head, I saw Liam standing there, and my heart began to hammer in my chest then, as it always seemed to whenever he was near me. I straightened up then, attempting to ignore the sweat which quickly began to gather on my palms as I did my best to keep neutral and casual about the whole thing.

"Hi," I said, realizing how lame I sounded.

"Don't 'hi' me, Iana," Liam replied then, and I could see the pain, hidden inside the silvery depths of his eyes.

I sighed. "Right. Sorry."

"Sorry?" Liam scoffed then, the word heated as it escaped from his perfect lips. "Why would you apologize to me? You fucking walked out without saying goodbye…"

I raised my eyebrows; was he becoming confused as to what this was? "Liam, really. I'm sorry if I freaked you out the other day. It wasn't my intention."

He dragged a hand through his dark brown hair. "Iana, you left. You fucking _left_. I was freaking out, wondering what had happened…"

I shook my head. "Nothing happened, Liam, really."

He swallowed then, looking at me up and down. "I don't believe that, Iana. I believe that something's happening here, something that neither of us can comprehend."

I felt my cheeks automatically flushing then as I shook my head. "Nothing's happening here, Liam, and the sooner you get that through that thick head of yours…" I sighed, knowing that this wasn't the way.

"So, I've got a thick head now, huh?" he demanded. "Nice."

"Look, I thought we established what this was," I fired back. "We never made each other promises or some had some bullshit melodrama or whatever. We made it clear that we were just friends having fun…"

"The other night was not how friends act," Liam said, narrowing his eyes at me. "Sure, you came to me for help during all your family shit, and I was cool with it, but you pushed the boundaries, Iana, just like you always do."

"Like I always do?!" I cried. "Please. You're just as culpable in all of this as I am. Never say it's all on me, Liam, because that's a bald-faced lie."

"So, you admit that there's something going on here?"

"I only admit to what we agreed to—that we're two friends having fun. That's all this has been and will ever be, Liam. We made it abundantly clear that we don't do relationships, and we both seemed perfectly fine with just fucking each other like crazy."

"You're not admitting what's standing right in front of you, Iana," Liam said, and I felt my face pale then as I spotted the back door of the diner opening from behind him then, and my mother stepped out into the alley way then. "Sure, we may have fucked each other like crazy, and I won't be the first to admit that, but you've gotta understand that there's a fine line between friendship and a relationship, and what we have, what we're doing… We're not acting like friends act towards one another, Iana. Friends don't fuck each other."

"Yeah," I said then, my voice trembling then as I locked eyes with my mother then, who looked completely shocked at what she'd just walked in on. "I guess you're right there, Liam. Friends definitely don't fuck each other. Or they shouldn't…"

Liam looked confused then, his dark brows knitting together then as he regarded my expression with worry. "What are you…?" He asked then, trailing off as he turned, his body stiffening almost automatically as he saw we had an audience. "Hi," he said awkwardly, recognition in his tone as he took her in.

"Liam, this is my mother, Murphy," I said uneasily.

Liam swallowed then as I moved cautiously to stand beside him. "It's nice to meet you officially, Murphy," he said then, the awkwardness palpable in the hot, summer afternoon.

"So, this is what's been going on here?" my mother asked, speaking for the first time, her eyes drifting from me to Liam and back again. "This is why you've been acting so weird? Did Liam tell you to stop taking your medication?"

"Mom!" I yelled then.

"Medication?" Liam asked, turning to look at me. "What medication? I know that you're on the pill, but I didn't know about any…"

"She's on lithium, Liam," she replied, while all the while I was shaking my head at her, my eyes wide, begging for her to stop. "Do you know what that's for?"

"Are you suicidal?" Liam asked, and I felt a sigh escape my lips then, knowing that that was a reason why lithium was prescribed, and yet I knew that Liam didn't want to risk offending me more than my mother already was.

"She's bipolar, Liam," my mother replied, her voice hard, and nearly devoid of all emotion, and I felt as if my entire being came crashing down then.

"Iana?" Liam asked, his voice shaking then, as I felt his eyes on me.

My hands, which had flown to my lips immediately as I noticed my mother was definitely going to out me as bipolar to Liam, slowly eased themselves off my lips then. "Fuck," I whispered then, the hot tears escaping my eyes before I could call them back.

"Iana…"

"Don't," I replied, not looking at Liam. "You and I…we're done here."

"But, Iana…"

"No," I said, my voice firm as I forced myself not to look at him. "I need to settle up some things here, and I'll call you later."

"Promise?"

"Christ. Yeah, I fucking promise! Just go!" I yelled then, stomping into the diner then, knocking myself deliberately into my mother as I passed her, walking through the employee locker room and down the hallway, before I reached her office. I swallowed then, remembering one of my first times in this office, and while I was enraged then, I wasn't nearly as much then as I was right now…

. . .

 _The door opened before us then, and I watched as she gave Uncle Ian a look of uncertainty as I stepped inside cautiously, as the boys each clung to Uncle Ian's legs._

" _Hi, guys," she said, doing her best to smile at us as she continued to act like there was nothing wrong here. "Aren't you going to come over here and give Mama a hug?"_

 _I turned to look at the boys, who made no move towards her, which was something that didn't even surprise me. I sighed for a moment before I forced myself to walk over to her and merely held up my arms, and she held me for a moment, but I remained stiff in her grasp before walking backwards and out of the embrace she'd given me. "You were wrong, Mama," I said._

 _She blinked, looking up at Uncle Ian, who I knew gave her a stoic expression. She lowered her eyes back down to mine, looking concerned. "What?" she whispered. "What are you talking about, sweetheart?" she asked me._

 _I felt unsure for a moment before I spoke again. "You chose Tommy over us," I finally said, a massive weight off me once I'd said it._

" _Iana..."_

" _No," I said. "You didn't come for my fifth birthday, or for Christmas. Tommy keeps you away from us. He moved into the house, and you moved us out. Why?"_

" _Iana, please," she said, almost as if she was attempting to launch into a whole entire justification here. "There are certain things that you don't understand because..."_

" _Don't call me a kid!" I said, narrowing my eyes at her. "I'm not just a kid. I'm a person, and a pretty fantastic one. My teachers are talking about me moving ahead a couple of grades, based on me being so fantastic," I said, but for the life of me, I could not keep my voice from breaking as I said these words. "And all I can say, Mama, is that you're going to miss it, because you've made your decision," I went on, before walking out of her office._

. . .

"Iana."

" _Don_ ' _t_ Iana me!" I thundered then; I couldn't even look at her, so instead I stared out the window and directly into the sunlight. "Don't fucking act like you're all innocent here. I mean, I'm not innocent here, but at least when confronted by it, I don't hide behind my fucking tragic backstory the entire conversation," I say, gripping on my opposite elbows. "There's shit that you wouldn't even begin to understand about me, Mother."

"Try me, then."

"Why? So you can blab it to people in my life that you didn't know about? Why do you think I didn't tell you about Liam?" I demand then. "Not like I knew you would jump for joy that I was involved with a repeat customer, but then there's the age difference…" I shrugged. "Might as well tell you, because I'm so tired of all this…"

"Tell me."

"I was raped," I replied. "I was touched inappropriately. I started smoking when I was twelve. I was drinking when I was thirteen. I was fucking by fourteen…"

"I knew about Tommy doing god knows what," she said quietly, her voice filled with revulsion as she dwelled on it for a moment too long. "But raped? Iana…"

" _Don_ ' _t_ fucking touch me," I said through my teeth then, dodging her attempts at comfort as I stepped away from her.

"Iana, who…?"

"My principal, the middle school one who wouldn't pass me," I replied, the hot tears streaming down my face before I could call them back.

"When?"

"Right after a new one was announced," I replied. "You left me here to run an errand, and I was cleaning up here after closing."

"Iana…"

"He must've seen me here, alone, defenseless, and just decided to take what he thought he was owed, the sick son of a bitch," I went on, digging my nails into my elbows. "Guess he figured out that I was the one who turned him in; I mean, he implied it… All I could think of was saying no, and I did… Fat lot of good that did. He obviously has a hearing deficiency," I muttered, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Didn't listen to a fucking word I said. Just kept shoving me back down so that he could do what he wanted to do all along. No beating around the bush; least he didn't shove his cock in my mouth. Just inside me…" I broke off then, as my tears continued to fall down my face, making contact with my lips as I continued to stare out the window. "Pops and Uncle Ian found out about it. Messed him up really good…must be all in the family when it comes to fucking people up…"

"Iana, what are you…?"

"I fucked up Terry," I replied. "That's when I told Pops and Uncle Ian that I was off my meds. I just couldn't take knowing what he did to Pops, Uncle Ian, and Mandy. I couldn't. So I just snapped and beat him to a fucking bloody pulp…"

"Christ, Iana. If anyone saw you…"

"Who gives a fuck?" I muttered. "Not like I don't have plans anyway. Besides, if worse came to worse, Mason could make me disappear. Give me a new identity…"

"What about Northwestern? Realizing your dream?"

I laughed bitterly again then, before turning to look at her. "Oh, Mother, Mother, Mother… If you knew the full story, I don't think you'd ever let me leave the house again, let alone realize my dream."

"Iana… What are you…?"

I sighed then, dashing the tears from my eyes and making my way towards the door. "Nothing, Mother. As always, nothing."

"Where are you going?"

"To Pops and Uncle Ian's," I replied, my back to her. "Think I'll crash there for a few days until you come up with a halfway decent apology." I placed my hand on the door then, and, before turning the handle, looked over my shoulder at her again. "I can forgive the whole bullshit thing with Tommy. I can forgive you constantly taking me for granted. But one thing, Mother, that I can't forgive, is you deciding where and when to tell people about me being bipolar. That's my challenge to deal with; not your thing to announce. I don't care if you are my mother; you had no right to say anything, and yet, you did. You let your anger and your turmoil get the better of you, and once again, you hurt your child." I smiled at her then; not a happy smile, but a bitter one, almost as if chewing lemons had been involved. "You happy now?" I asked her, before I opened the door and shut it, hard, behind me.


	11. Punch the Clock

Chapter Eleven: Punch the Clock

The constant orders of customers blared in my head as I ran around, attempting to take them, while all the while, my mother continued in her efforts to talk to me. It was just enough for Franny to hold her at bay for the time being, while all I did was standing there for a moment, in the middle of the diner, my head throbbing, wondering what pain medication was safe to take while pregnant. And there it was again, my consideration for this unborn life that I'd never wanted in the first place. Shaking my head, I headed back into the kitchen, taking a break as I leaned against the lockers, the cold metal seeping into my back.

"Twenty-four hours, twenty-four hours," I whispered to myself. "Then this'll all be over and I can move the fuck on…"

If only it hadn't been for the night before, when everything had changed, and not for the better, of course. It was the night before that I'd felt little flips inside me, and wondered if it was the baby making itself known. I pushed the thought from my mind then and braced myself up against the lockers, forcing myself back into the fray. It was the lunch rush, so I was needed without question, and yet as I stepped back towards the doorway of the diner, I felt my head and vision beginning to swim.

"Iana," came my mother's voice, slightly muffled and distorted, as she approached me for the umpteenth time that afternoon. "You okay? Want to talk?"

"Aunt Murphy!" Franny called, always on the ball as she dashed forward, her eyes worried as it flitted from me, to my mother, and back again. "Some jerk over in the center booth by the window is complaining about the avocado on his burger. He's pretty much demanding to see someone in charge…"

My mother sighed, obviously wanting to question me further, but nodded. "All right, I'll take care of it," she said, and made her way to the other side of the restaurant.

"Hey, come on," Franny said, motioning for someone to cover our tables for a few minutes as she brought me back into the employee locker room. "Sit down," she ordered, gently pushing me down onto the bench. "Here," she went on, handing me her water bottle from her locker, and I drank it like someone who'd been lost in a desert for a thousand days. "What's going on with you today? You're quiet, and you don't look like yourself…"

I sighed. "Tired," I replied. "Haven't been sleeping much lately…"

"Why?" she asked, tentatively taking the water bottle from me. "Something going on?"

I rubbed my eyes then, in an attempt to ward off the desire to sleep. "The procedure's tomorrow, so I guess I'm just worried…"

Franny nodded. "Understandable."

"You know, if they fuck it up, you can't have kids…"

Franny made a face. "Please. You never wanted kids."

I opened my mouth to say something, but automatically shut it when I saw my mother looming in the doorway of the employee locker room.

"I don't pay you girls to stand around and gossip! Now, get out there," she said, her hands on her hips. "There are tables to wait."

"Be right there," Franny said, narrowing her eyes at my mother's back as soon as she slipped back towards her office. "You okay to get back to work?"

I nodded then, dragging my hand across my forehead; I was sweating like a pig, and even though it was a hot August day, I knew, deep down, that something didn't feel right. "Sure. Fine," I assured Franny, and gripped the sides of the bench to boost myself up. As I moved to do so, however, I got to my feet and wobbled slightly then before my knees buckled completely. I was vaguely aware of Franny screaming my name and grabbing me as I fell to the ground, my vision going black, just like all my senses as the lights went out.

. . .

I clocked out early that day, as soon as I'd let my mother have it for what must have been the ten thousandth time over the course of my life. I went directly to my locker and got out my things before heading back out into the alley and got into my car, my course set for Pops and Uncle Ian's place. I tossed my bag into the back, drumming my hands absentmindedly on my steering wheel as I navigated my way through late-afternoon traffic and towards one of the few safe havens I'd had in my life.

I parked right outside upon arrival and let myself in, tossing my clothes into the washing machine and perching up on one of the highchairs of the kitchen island. I lowered my eyes down towards my stomach, still barely swollen, and shook my head, leaning forward so as to obliterate it from my view. I reached into my pocket for the packet of almonds I'd put in there earlier, one of the two forms of nuts I actually liked, and popped a few into my mouth. The other kinds of nuts I consumed were hazelnuts; can't get enough of Nutella, which I was craving more than usual lately, although I didn't give in as much as I would like to.

The door opened from behind me then and Pops trooped through, starting for a moment as he saw me sitting there. "Hey, kiddo," he said, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind him. He placed a few grocery bags on the table, and I hopped down, gravitating towards him immediately and just laying my head down on his shoulder. "Bad day?"

I sighed. "Kind of."

"Yeah?" he asked, kissing my forehead. "What happened?"

I inhaled then, sensing something delicious was lurking inside the bags and felt my stomach growl automatically when I smelled it. "Mom may have walked out into the alley when I had an unexpected guest," I said quietly, attempting to ignore my hunger.

"Did she?" Pops asked, gently moving me to sit down at the table as he unpacked the groceries, and I saw a roast chicken being put onto the counter, along with mashed potatoes and pre-prepared green beans. "This is our dinner," he explained. "I take it you'll be joining your uncle and me this evening?"

I nodded. "Please," I said softly.

"So who'd your mom find you with?" Pops asked as he continued filing the various food and household items away in the cabinets and fridge.

I bit my lower lip then, knowing that I needed to talk to someone about it. "She found me with Liam," I replied.

He raised his eyebrows. "Liam?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"What'd Liam want?"

"To confront me about dodging his phone calls," I replied. "I may be ignoring them, and have been ever since I made the stupid mistake of crashing at his place…"

"Sounds legit," Pops said with a nod of his head.

I scoffed then, leaning back in my chair, and would've given almost anything to have an ice cold beer right about then. "I don't know. I mean, I don't think that we're on the same page anymore of being just friends who have fun…"

"Yeah? You think he has feelings for you?"

"Of annoyance, maybe," I muttered. "I don't know. I guess there could be feelings there, but I let him know that I didn't want a fucking sugar daddy or anything like that. I'm not that kind of girl, Pops. You know that, don't you?"

He smiled. "I know you're my daughter, and that you're a hard worker."

"I don't like being spoon-fed, that's for sure," I said, crossing my arms. "Guess it just goes to show you how unpredictable the heterosexual male is…"

"Speaking as someone who tried to convince everyone in his life that he was that," Pops said, and I turned to look at him then, "it's fucking complicated to pretend to be someone you're not, when all you want to do is be what you are."

I mulled that over in my mind then. "And how do you know when you're there?"

He smiled. "That's all part of the life experience, kiddo. Don't worry, you'll get there. You just need to live a bit longer first."

. . .

Franny continued to help me avoid my mother at the diner for the next two days, while I continued crashing at Pop and Uncle Ian's place. My mother tried more than once to get me to reconsider my decision, but I felt that space was what we needed for the moment. I continued to ignore Liam, knowing that it could potentially be the undoing of our relationship, or whatever it was, but I couldn't handle that as well. Work continued to prove to be a worthy distraction during the rest of the week, and yet there were holes in my day, due to the fact that I refused to speak to my mother. I knew that, at one point or another, the lines of communication would be forced open again, but I still wasn't ready to even attempt to make the first move.

I was finishing up my shift on Friday, gathering my things from my locker, when my phone vibrated in the back pocket of my jean shorts. Perplexed, I grabbed it out, raising my eyebrows at Mandy's number. Shrugging it off, I moved to answer it, placing the phone up against my ear and hesitating for a moment. "Mandy?"

"Hey, Iana," she said, exuberant as usual. "Lip and I are inviting you, plus Mick and Ian, over for dinner tonight. You down?"

I raised my eyebrows at the unexpected invitation. "Yeah," I replied. "I'm just getting off work now… I'll run home, get cleaned up, and then we'll drive right on over…"

"Mick told me that you've been staying with them," Mandy said gently as I continued to clean my employee locker. "You doing okay?"

I sighed. "Just…family drama, you know?"

"Of course," she replied. "All too well."

"So…what time are we expected?"

"Seven okay?" she asked.

"Seven's great," I replied, checking my phone; it was just after four-thirty. "I'll head home now and make sure the boys get ready."

"Great. See you then!"

"You, too!" I said, hanging up. I continued to grab my things before slamming my locker shut and clipping the combination lock into place. I pulled my duffel bag on over my shoulder and headed out the back door, unlocking my car automatically and hopping in. I tossed my duffel into the back seat, shooting off a text to Pops, letting him know that I was on my way and would be seeing him soon.

The drive home wasn't as messy as I anticipated, and I arrived in just under fifteen minutes. I got out of the car, seeing that Pops was picking up a case of Old Style, and would be meeting Uncle Ian at work before heading home with him. I smiled at how married the two of them were as I headed inside the house, letting myself inside and crossing directly to the kitchen, whereupon I shoved a weeks'-worth of clothes into the washing machine. I had the next two days off, and I was looking forward to an impromptu night out with a select few members of my family, and even though I had a bunch of bullshit drama weighing on me, I knew that getting out of my head for a while was warranted.

I headed upstairs and into my borrowed bedroom, fetching a towel and stripping off, wrapping myself within the terry and crossing back out into the hallway towards the bathroom. Stepping inside, I shut the door behind me and turned towards the bath-shower combo that I'd quickly gotten used to over the years and began adjusting the temperature to one I liked. Once it was set, I set the towel onto the bathroom counter and stepped inside. I lowered my eyes as the droplets migrated from my hair towards my slightly expanded stomach. I bit my lip then as I rolled my shoulders, worrying that I wasn't making the right decision.

Immediately, I shook my head and dunked my head underneath the water, which was much colder than I anticipated. "Fuck!" I screamed, drawing back and adjusting it again before making a grab for my shampoo. I rolled my eyes, hating that I was getting so goddamned sentimental about something I'd never even wanted in the first place. "Cool it, dammit," I muttered through my teeth as I massaged the soap into my hair.

I returned to the bedroom as soon as my shower was completed, yanking on a pair of panties and a bra as I rubbed the shit out of my hair with the towel, so as to prevent it from being wet for the next several hours. I grabbed another pair of denim shorts and a slightly-nicer tank top, deciding to pair them with my wedge sandals for the evening. I gathered my mane of raven hair into a side ponytail, which came to rest several inches below my collar bone.

I lay down on the borrowed bed then, feeling exhausted from my week at work and constant avoidance of certain members of my family. Peeking at my phone again, I spotted a text from Fionn, demanding to know when I'd be coming home. Knowing it would be cruel to just leave him on read, while all the while rolling my eyes, I forced myself to reply. While it wasn't the best answer, that I didn't know when I would be coming home, it was an honest one. I knew deep down that if Fionn couldn't accept the answer, then that was his problem, not mine. As much as I loved my brother, he needed to know that I couldn't always drop everything to be there for him, and with my move out of here the following month, it was probably good that he was getting used to not having me around constantly now.

I set my hands on my stomach then and, for once, forced myself not to move them and to keep them there for a moment. I didn't feel anything out of the ordinary, other than the fact that my stomach was definitely harder than it had been, even when I was at the peak of my work out regimens. I pursed my lips then, considering the child, and wondering if it would be like me or like Andy. Of course, I knew those thoughts were dangerous, and I knew I'd be raising the baby on my own, as Aunt Debbie had done with Franny and Franny had done with Ezra. I shook my head at my thoughts, sitting up in the bed and running my hands down my forehead. It was too late now; the appointment had been set, and my mind was made up. No matter what, I was going through with my plans, and no sentimentality would stop me.

. . .

Pops, Uncle Ian, and I arrived at Mandy's building a few minutes before seven, and I agreed to help them take in some of their purchases for dinner that night. Pops and Uncle Ian went inside first, while I agreed to catch the next elevator upstairs as I gathered the rest of the groceries. As I finished gathering the rest of the groceries, I managed to shut and lock the truck before carrying everything inside. I got to the elevators quickly, and, once they arrived, I stepped inside immediately and waited for the doors to close.

"Hold the door!"

Immediately, I set the bags down and pressed the button, my eyes widening at the young woman who stepped into the elevator with a grateful smile my way. "You okay?" I asked, getting a good look at the beautiful bolts of fabric she was carrying.

"Fine, thanks," she replied. "Top floor, please."

"No problem," I replied, pushing the button, knowing that the top three floors housed the exclusive suites the building had to offer.

"You live here?"

I shook my head. "No. My aunt and uncle live here. Heading upstairs to join them for dinner," I said, hoping I was at liberty to discuss such things.

The girl nodded, her beautiful blonde hair not an inch out of place. "I have a studio upstairs," she explained with a smile. "My brother's coming to help me with these new materials."

I raised my eyebrows. "Studio?"

She grinned, her green eyes flashing with excitement. "Yeah. I'm a designer."

"No kidding?"

"Not kidding," she replied with a lyrical laugh. "Professionally, I'm known as Nell Barrington, to distinguish myself from my family. Barrington is my mother's maiden name," she explained with an effortless toss of her blonde locks. "Guess I didn't want my famous brother's name breathing down my neck during the entire organization…"

"You're the CEO of Nells Rags?" I asked then, my eyes wide.

She grinned. "Shabby-chic boutiques all across the United States, thank you very much," she replied. "Got my degree five years ago and opened up the first one in Lincoln Park when I was twelve, so three years ago now. We open one in Tokyo in six months, and then there's one coming to the Bahamas next year. I just finished approving the concepts of the first launch of the Bahamas location, and then we're in talks for one in Paris next."

I shook my head at how amazing Nell's life was. "That's amazing."

"Is this the slowest elevator or what?" she asked, looking around as we continued our climb. "I guess it decided to take me up first."

I shrugged. "No problem."

"So, while I've been talking, I've been rude," she said with another smile. "I've barely allowed you a word in edgewise."

"Not much to know, to be honest," I replied.

Nell giggled. "Oh, I very much doubt that. What's your name?"

"I'm Iana," I replied.

She looked shocked then at my name. "Iana? Well… I mean, that's certainly not a name you hear every day…"

I laughed. "I was an accident, I'll admit it," I replied.

"Your mother was…young?" she guessed.

"She was twenty-one," I said with a shrug. "Not so young. She was already working for a law firm by the time she had me."

"Your mother's a lawyer?"

"Was. She owns a diner now."

The elevators dinged open at long last and Nell scurried into the hall. She hesitated for a moment before turning around. "Want to come in for a moment?"

I raised my eyebrows. "You don't mind?" I asked.

"Of course not!" she replied. "You're the first person of our age that I've met who knows who I am but hasn't been all over me. I need more friends like you."

"Friends," I said with a laugh as I left the elevator to follow her. "I literally surround myself with my family, to be honest with you. My cousin is my best friend, and since she has a son already, I just don't get out much."

"Oh, you'll get out a lot more now that we're friends," Nell gushed as we turned the corner. "So, I take it you're close to my age…"

"I'm sixteen," I replied. "I just graduated high school in June."

"Wow, so a year older, okay," she said. "Got any plans now that you're free?"

"Well, I accepted an academic scholarship from Northwestern University," I replied. "I'm going to major in business."

"Hey, maybe I'll even be offering you a job one day," Nell said.

I smiled at her. "Yeah, maybe you will," I said.

Nell got to the door of her suite and unlocked it, and as we stepped inside, she spotted a black blazer on one of the cushions of the white modern couch. "Oh! That means my darling brother is here!" she sang, dropping the bolts of fabric onto the couch next to it as she turned around to face me again. "I'll just go into the back and fetch him! Will!" she called, and dashed into the room in the back, while the door automatically shut behind me.

"Jesus, Penny, you know I hate it when you call me that!"

My blood immediately ran cold then. No, no, no. It couldn't be, could it?! I did my best to put on my poker face then, as my worst fears were confirmed as Nell trooped back into the room, pulling her brother in behind her.

"Will, this is—"

"Iana?!"

"Liam," I whispered then, swallowing, feeling as if I'd just been sent out to sea without any kind of warning. "What a surprise."

Nell looked shocked as she dropped Liam's arm. "Wait… My new best friend Iana is the girl you've been so hung up on?"

Liam sighed. "Fuck. Thanks, Penny."

"Oh, boy, I did not expect to walk into this," I said quietly, doing my best to hold it together. "I am so sorry to put you into the middle of this, Nell. I'll just go…"

"You don't have to leave!" Nell cried, coming towards me. "I'm so sorry if my brother put you in an awkward position."

I smiled at her and squeezed her shoulder for a moment. "Oh, sweetie, nobody put anyone into an awkward position. It was all… Well, fun was had by all."

"But… You're sixteen," Nell said, her voice quivering.

I sighed. "I know how old I am, and it didn't matter to us, at the time. Let's just say that we didn't keep on the same page. Did we, Liam?"

Liam looked slightly unnerved then before he nodded. "No. We didn't."

"I need to go," I said, bending back down to pick up the grocery bags. "It was lovely to meet you, Nell. And Liam… Well, nice to see you, I guess," I said before I turned around and left Nell's suite and hurried to the elevator.

I willed for myself not to cry as I stepped inside and pressed the floor that Mandy and Uncle Lip lived on. Swallowing over and over again and forcing myself to remember how to breathe, I arrived at the correct floor and composed myself as I walked towards the door. I knocked, and was relieved when Mandy answered the door. I did my best to smile at her as she greeted me, and she instructed Uncle Lip to take my bags from me and put them into the kitchen before she guided me into the living room, where Pops and Uncle Ian already were.

"I just can't get over it," Mandy said, perching on the edge of the couch, a few inches from where she'd sandwiched me between Pops and Uncle Ian. "She really does look like a Milkovich, Mick. You and Murphy did a great job."

"There's some Gallagher in there, too, thank you very much," Uncle Ian replied with a grin. "Am I right, Lip?"

"No question," Uncle Lip replied, sitting on the arm of the couch behind Mandy and pulling her in close to him, and she immediately relaxed against his body. "Now that we've got everyone here, how's about that announcement now?"

"I'm ready, if you are," Mandy replied.

I looked from one of them to the other. "What's up with you two?"

Mandy grinned as she turned and looked at me, before extending her left hand and showing me the modest yet lovely diamond on her finger. "We're getting married!" she cried.

"Hey!" Uncle Ian replied, getting to his feet and embracing Mandy and Uncle Lip in turn, and I noticed that Pops looked mighty pleased with himself.

"You bastard! You fucking knew?!" I demanded with a laugh, playfully shoving his shoulder before he grabbed me and rubbed my head affectionately.

"Lip may have asked me for permission…"

Mandy gaped at Pops. "He did not!" she cried out, turning to Uncle Lip.

Uncle Lip threw up his hands. "I wanted to play this respectful and, well… Mick's my brother too and I figured…"

Mandy grabbed ahold of Uncle Lip then and kissed him. "I fucking love you," she said.

Uncle Lip grinned and yanked Mandy by the waist so that she was plastered against him. "Well, I fucking love you, too," he replied.

. . .

The next eight days went by quickly, and I slowly began counting down the hours to the procedure that, whether I liked it or not, would change my life forever. I was off work early two days before, just two hours before the dinner rush began. I had a text from Uncle Ian that he was working late, and Pops was over at Uncle Lip and Mandy's place, but would be home later in case I needed anything. I assured them both that I would be all right for a few hours by myself and when I arrived, I headed directly upstairs and lay back on my borrowed bed, looking up at the old ceiling.

" _It's okay, you guys. We can't let the dark scare us. It's just there. It won't hurt you."_

I shut my eyes then as the warm tears escaped them, remembering holding onto Clayton and Fionn as they cried for Mom in those dark days, so early in our childhood. I knew that I'd done the right thing for them by forgiving our mother, and by omitting several things from discussion in years past. Of course, had I told them the whole truth and nothing but the truth, shit would be very different, I knew that. Perhaps, they would've sided with me, and would've wanted to stay with me at Pops and Uncle Ian's place.

It was different for Carla and Charlie; Carla barely remembered the days of Dad's absence from the family, they were so brief. As for Charlie, Mom was pregnant with him when Dad's assignment had been wrapping up, so Dad had always been there for him. Clayton and Fionn were just kids, babies really, so even though flashes of those times came to them now and again, they wouldn't remember what I remembered. They wouldn't remember the complete rejection that our mother put us through, supposedly for our own protection. They wouldn't remember that the rejection had come to late, and that Tommy had already managed to get his hands on me at least once during his time with her.

The experts say that unconditional love isn't fleeting, and that, nine times out of ten, the child will forgive its parent for anything. Of course, nine out of ten was just a guesstimation from me, and I knew next to nothing about psychology. I guessed then that I was the outlier in the equation put forth by experts and guessed at by me. I had to be. I just couldn't get over what my mother had done to me as a child, and kept doing to me as a teenager. Maybe this is what how it was supposed to be; us living apart. Me living with the section of the family that seemed to accept me no matter what shit I found myself in.

And it was then, in the darkness that crept up in my thoughts, that my life changed and took off in a moment that I never thought possible. It was then that, from within me, my child did a backflip, and my eyes snapped open. The gasp escaped from my lips before I could call it back, and I immediately felt regret for what was to come, a feeling I could no longer silence or attempt to call back.

. . .

"I don't pay you girls to stand around and gossip! Now, get out there," she said, her hands on her hips. "There are tables to wait."

"Be right there," Franny said, narrowing her eyes at my mother's back as soon as she slipped back towards her office. "You okay to get back to work?"

I nodded then, dragging my hand across my forehead; I was sweating like a pig, and even though it was a hot August day, I knew, deep down, that something didn't feel right. "Sure. Fine," I assured Franny, and gripped the sides of the bench to boost myself up. As I moved to do so, however, I got to my feet and wobbled slightly then before my knees buckled completely. I was vaguely aware of Franny screaming my name and grabbing me as I fell to the ground, my vision going black, just like all my senses as the lights went out.

The sensation of hearing returned soon thereafter, and I was vaguely able to hear Franny and my mother screaming orders. I felt myself being lifted by strong arms, and a familiar scent hit my nostrils as I felt the sensation of being carried. It was Uncle Ian, I knew that now; he must've arrived with his EMT associates to take me to the hospital. As I was unable to talk, I couldn't protest as they jostled me slightly to get me into the vehicle, although I felt myself smirk almost automatically when Uncle Ian scolded them for it.

Next came the lurch of the ambulance and the wail of the siren as they worked on me, and I faded in and out as we drove. We arrived soon thereafter, and I heard Pops's voice through the mix of people around the doors as I was pushed through and into the hospital. I was given an I.V., filled with something to bring me around, most likely, and when I opened my eyes, I was lying in a hospital bed with Pops beside me.

"Pops," I whispered.

"Hey, kiddo. You okay?"

I nodded. "What happened?"

"You fainted at the diner," he replied. "Doctor said you were stressed and dehydrated."

I sighed, sitting up carefully, and relieved that I didn't get a headrush. "That explains a whole hell of a lot…"

"Yeah?" Pops asked, looking me over to make sure I wasn't going to pass out again. "Why? I mean, you okay to talk about it?"

"Always, with you," I said quietly, folding my hands on top of the hospital blanket before I raised my eyes to his. "I felt the baby move last night."

Pops's eyes widened. "You felt it?"

"Yeah. And it… I don't know. Made me want to…"

"Change your mind?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. That's the thing… I know I don't want to go through with the abortion anymore, but still… Keeping it?"

"Keeping what?"

I turned and looked in the doorway of my hospital room, where my mother was standing, having likely just arrived. "Hi," I said quietly.

"Keep what, Iana?" she asked.

I sighed then, my hand moving slightly, and Pops immediately reached out and took it. "Mom, I should tell you that I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant?" she said, laughing heartily. "That's a good one, Iana. Okay. The doctor says you're good to go, and that you can be discharged soon so that you can come home…"

"Mom, this isn't a joke," I said, slightly annoyed that she would think I'd joke about something like this. "I'm pregnant. I'm really pregnant."

She narrowed her eyes then. "You're pregnant?"

"Yeah."

"Is it his?" she demanded. "That guy that came to the diner? That… Liam guy. Who must be the age I was when I had you…"

"He's twenty-one, so that's true," I said quietly. "But no, it's not his. It's this guy I went to school with, who was in my grade."

"How far along are you?"

"About three months," I replied with a shrug. "Give or take…"

"Fucking Christ, Iana," my mother said.

"Hey, Murph, that's enough," Pops said.

"You!" she cried out then. "You fucking knew?!"

"Hey, I didn't ask her to tell me. Ian and me just guessed."

"Fuck," she said, dragging her hands down her face before turning to look at me. "I'm your mother, Iana. Your fucking mother. You're supposed to tell me these things first."

"My mother?" I asked, my tone bitter.

"Yeah, your mother."

"You can't just want to be my mother whenever it's convenient for you," I said.

She looked stunned. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you can't just throw up your hands when shit gets tough and say, 'Let someone else deal with it!' It doesn't work that way, Mom. You're not some teenager who just stamps her feet and gets her way all the time. It may work with your husband and most of your other kids, but it sure as shit won't work for me."

"Iana…"

"No," I said, my voice so firm that I thought it could end up breaking. "You want to be my mother, then fucking act like it! Otherwise, just stay the hell away from me."

She looked shocked for a moment, looking as if she would reply to my challenge, before she shut her mouth like a steel trap. She continued to hesitate for a moment, and even looked at Pops, almost as if she thought he would help her, but he squeezed my hand, letting me know that he was on my side here. Finally, as if she couldn't take it anymore, she let out a sigh before she turned and looked at me again.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," she said, her voice devoid of any emotion before she turned on her heel and left the doorway.

"Mom?" I asked then, all bravado gone as my voice shook. "Mom…" I whispered then, my voice devolving into a sob as I fully realized what she had done. "She fucking left," I said, turning towards Pops then and throwing myself into his arms. "She fucking left me… Why does everyone always leave?" I whispered, gripping onto him, almost for dear life, as I found I could not stop sobbing.

TO BE CONTINUED


	12. The Serpent's Bite

Chapter Twelve: The Serpent's Bite

It was when I saw my own blinds through my half-open eyelids that I immediately sat bolt-upright in bed, shocked that I'd been inexplicably returned to my own bedroom. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I immediately lowered my hands to my belly, just to make sure that the baby was okay. It flipped from inside me, and I was instantly relieved that it hadn't been cut out of me while I was sleeping. My mother was capable of a lot of things, but murder of her own grandchild didn't seem like one of them.

I pushed myself up from my bed then, slightly groggy as I crossed the room. I was no longer in a hospital gown, and was instead in a T-shirt and shorts. Checking, I saw that I had a pair of panties on beneath the shorts, but no bra, which was just as well, as I didn't sleep in a bra under any circumstances whatsoever. While the invasiveness I suddenly felt that I'd been undressed without permission sent bile to my throat, I knew I needed to figure out some things as I went into the bathroom.

Once I'd relieved myself, I washed my hands before putting up my hair into a messy bun and headed downstairs. My parents, predictably, were out, and I didn't know where my younger siblings were at the moment. I headed into the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water and sipped it carefully, rolling back on my heels as I considered the predicament I was in. I wondered if I was going to be held prisoner until the child was born, and then forced off to university while the baby was sent away somewhere. At the thought, I nearly dropped my glass and placed both hands upon my stomach, heart hammering in my chest once again, and I felt my face flush at the notion of what I was doing.

I walked out of the kitchen immediately and went upstairs to my bedroom. There were still clothes missing from my dresser, so I knew that they were still likely at Pops and Uncle Ian's place across the street. I swallowed, looking out my window, and seeing that someone had brought my car back here, and the keys were placed on the top of my chest of drawers. I checked my phone, seeing that it was mid-afternoon, on a Monday. Doing the math, I knew that I must have been given a sedation after Pops had left the hospital the night before, and that I'd likely been transferred back home.

Shaking my head, I dressed hastily, piling my hair back up onto my head and gathering a few more articles of clothing. Stepping into my sneakers, I picked up my keys and dashed downstairs as quickly as I dared, my head already throbbing due to the nervousness that seemed to creep into every corner of my body. I grabbed the doorknob of the front door and turned it, stepping outside into the sunshine before I slammed it behind me, hearing the automatic click that always sounded, letting me know it had locked on its own. I fled down the stairs and through the gate and ran across the street, letting myself into the house before I shut and locked the door behind me as quickly as I could.

"Kiddo?"

My heart lurched upon hearing that voice and, turning around, I ran through the living room and into the kitchen, where Pops stood. Without hesitation, I threw my arms around him, shaking like a leaf in his arms.

"You okay?" he asked.

I shuddered, pulling back and wrapping my arms protectively around myself, before I forced a nod to come to my subconscious. "I'm fine," I replied, lowering my hands towards my stomach again and smiled. "We're fine," I told him.

. . .

I called in sick to work for the next two days, and spent most of my time pacing around the house, hands on my stomach. Now that I'd officially acknowledged the existence of my child inside me, as well as informed Dr. Lennox that the abortion wouldn't be happening, I found myself at a loss about what my future would hold. Obviously, I knew that if I was keeping the baby, that college, for now, at least, was out of the question, and I would have to come up with childcare arrangements once the baby was born. Knowing that the next six months or so would be filled with planning was almost beyond me, but I knew that I could come to a decision when it came down to what was right for the baby.

I was sleeping in late, after the thirty-second phone call to Franny to inform my mother that I wouldn't be at work again that second day, when I heard loud banging on the front door downstairs. It sent me out of bed like a light, and I immediately sprang into action, running out of my bedroom as I struggled to get on a sweater, heading for the stairs immediately. Uncle Ian was working a double that night, but I'd heard Pops heading downstairs for coffee a couple of hours before. I peeked around the landing, seeing him already walking into the little alcove area to answer the door.

"I'm coming, goddammit!" he yelled, and I smirked to myself as I gathered my hair into a ponytail atop my head; that was my father, all right. He opened the door then as I inched around the corner, and crossed his arms; he meant business. "Who the hell are you?"

"Andy Parker," he replied.

"Andy?" I asked, my voice raising an octave automatically as I came around the corner completely then, crossing my arms.

"This the clown who left you to get arrested at your party?" Pops demanded, jabbing a finger in Andy's direction.

"Among _other things_ , Pops," I said, raising my eyebrows at him, and Pops's hands immediately morphed into fists. "Pops!" I snapped at him, crossing my arms. "Go into the kitchen and have some more coffee. Now," I told him, knowing that potentially splattering Andy's brains over the front porch so early in the morning likely wouldn't help the situation.

Pops scoffed then, narrowing his eyes briefly at Andy for a moment before he stomped past me, back into the kitchen.

"Sorry you had to see that," I replied, walking towards Andy so that I took Pops's place in the doorway. "He can get real protective of me."

"He your sugar daddy or something?" Andy asked, looking around. "Because, if you ask me, he's not doing a very good job in keeping you in the lap of luxury…"

I gagged then, and shook my head. "Jesus, that's sick."

"What? Because he's older?"

"No!" I shouted. "Because he's my father!"

Andy looked stunned. "I thought Nicholas was your father."

I rolled my eyes. "That snake? No! He's my mother's husband. He adopted me when I was three, right after they got married."

"Sounds like there's some bad blood there…"

I sighed, leaning up against the doorframe. "You're not kidding," I muttered, checking my phone for a moment, and seeing that it was just after nine a.m. "So, how can I help you?" I asked him then, trying to keep my tone civil. "Thought you moved to L.A…"

He nodded. "I did, yeah. My apartment off-campus is all set up. Little graduation present from my parents," he added, slightly sheepish.

I smiled tightly at him. "Glad to hear it. You playing for the team?"

"Of UCLA? You know it," he replied. "Already got my position and playing schedule, plus my class one; just waiting for my uniform to come in."

"So, why aren't you there?" I asked, spreading my hands. "Seems to me like you've already carved out a freaking life for yourself…"

Andy sighed. "Look, Iana, I'm not here to play games or anything…"

I raised my eyebrows. "Okay…"

"…but I was getting my shit together and heard a rumor…"

I scoffed, my gut telling me what the rumor was about. "Oh, I'll bet you did…"

"Is it true, Iana?" Andy asked, snapping me out of it and causing my eyes to lock with his. "Are you pregnant?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I'm pregnant."

"How far along are you?"

I crossed my arms, glaring slightly at him in annoyance. "Christ, Andy. If you're asking me if it's yours, yeah. It's yours."

Andy nodded, almost as if he was fully absorbing the information for a moment. "I see," he said, after a moment of silence.

"Why did you come back to South Side?" I asked him, my voice quiet, and without any trace of annoyance. "Andy?" I said, and this got his attention. "Why'd you come back?"

He sighed. "Look, I want to do the right thing here…"

"The right thing?" I asked, my eyes nearly popping out of their sockets then as he got down on one knee in front of me. "Andy? What the hell are you—?!"

"I shouldn't have left you at Patsy's to get arrested—especially on your birthday," he said, and took something out of his pocket. "It was totally wrong. And now that I know you're going to have my baby, I think it's time to plan for our future."

"Your baby?!" I spat then, my eyes narrowing at the gaudy football ring I saw him holding in his hands. "Excuse me—!"

"And the first course of action is this," Andy continues, holding up the ring. "Iana, will you marry me?"

I nearly gagged then, and would've been sick on the porch if I didn't manage to hold it together completely then. "No."

Andy blinked. "No?"

I shook my head at him. "No."

"Why?" he asked.

I stared down at his stupid face then, and felt my hands curling into fists. "Because this is _my_ baby," I said through my teeth at him. "You may have helped with the fun part, but you're going to have no part of my child's life. It's _mine_ ," I said again, a primal rage going through me at a million miles an hour. "Mine. Go and have you life in California—be a fucking football star for all I care. Do your thing, but under no certain terms are you to come near me and my baby. Go back to L.A., now," I said then, my eyes narrowing at him, and Andy pocketed his ring, before he nearly slipped off the porch and slithered into his overpriced car, and drove off.

. . .

"Holy shit, you did not!" Franny cried out the following evening when I went to go and see her and Ezra, who was, by this time, in bed.

I nodded at her. "I did."

"You said the baby was yours, before you _rejected_ a marriage proposal?"

I laughed a little then. "What's with the rehashing? I already told you what happened yesterday morning after Pops's left us alone…"

"Did he chase after Andy's car as he drove off?"

I shook my head. "No, thank god. But I wouldn't put it past him."

She sighed, obviously overwhelmed with everything that had happened in the last several days, and I really didn't blame her. "Look, Iana…"

Something within her voice caught me off-guard then, and it was almost as if she was holding herself back from saying something. Ever since Ezra had been a possibility, Franny and I had become as close as sisters; sure, we were always close growing up, but things had changed in the early days of her pregnancy. And with the secret of his father's identity only known to us, I knew that we'd carry it with us forever, until or unless she or Ezra wanted to potentially track him down sometime in the future.

"What?" I asked her then, in the silence that had followed, knowing that Franny, ultimately, would have to get whatever this unsaid thing was off her chest. We didn't do well with keeping secrets from each other; other people, yes; us, no. "Tell me, Franny. You're holding back—don't do that; not with me."

She bit her lip then, twisting the end of her red hair around her pale finger; she looked next to nothing like her father, and seemed to take all her genetic traits from Aunt Debbie, while I did from my paternal side of the family. Other than our skin—which resembled polished alabaster with a touch of cream—we looked nothing alike. From the time we started hanging out, it was comical to some people that we were cousins; however, our tempers were identical, so, if one of us was mad, the other wasn't far behind.

"I think you should get an abortion."

The seven words just hung in the air between us; I made no sound from where I sat, on the other side of her couch. But for my mouth dropping open in shock at her words, I said nothing, and wondered then if I'd imagined the whole sentence. One look into Franny's eyes then, however, told me that I hadn't imagined a thing and, in fact, my cousin and best friend was telling me to get rid of a child that I now wanted.

Wanted. I couldn't believe it. I shut my mouth then as the word formulated itself in my brain then, and I considered it fully. The sack of water; the parasite; the amoeba… Every little name I'd come up for this being that was half me… Half me. That was the point, wasn't it? I knew then that, something I never wanted to even consider all along, was always there. Now that I opened up my heart to consider it, I felt a rare warmth flood my senses then as I placed my hands upon my stomach then as I shook my head at Franny.

"No."

She looked surprised. "No?"

"No," I said simply. "I cancelled the appointment for a reason, Franny. I can't go through with it, not anymore."

"You… You bonded with…?"

"You can say it. The baby. My baby," I said, finding that I no longer needed to force the words from my lips. "It's my baby. And I… I want it."

Franny sighed. "You know, Iana…"

"What?"

"This means that you'll have to, you know… Kiss Northwestern goodbye."

I sighed. "I know. But…" I shrugged. "Guess I can wait on that dream. Because this baby has to be my number-one priority, and I'm fine with that."

"And you don't think you'll resent it? You know, down the line," Franny said quietly, and I thought it over then. "Ten, fifteen years from now, when your kid comes to you with their own dreams. Will you tell them that you had to put yours on hold for them?"

I smile at Franny. "No, I won't tell them that."

Franny sighed. "So, you'll lie?"

I shook my head. "It won't be a lie. I'll tell them the truth."

"And what is the truth here, Iana?"

"That I formed a new dream—having them," I said with a smile. "And, who knows? Maybe I'll be able to just figure out the whole school thing along the way. No reason why I have to go college immediately after high school…"

"But, you talked about college for years…"

"And I also talked about not wanting kids of my own," I said. "Besides, things can change. They can sometimes be for the better."

"And they can sometimes be worse," Franny said quietly then, and turned her head to make sure that Ezra wasn't listening at the door. "Look, I love Ezra more than anything, but it is fucking hard to do all this by myself. My mom didn't throw me out, but she barely lifted a finger to help me out in the beginning. I think it was reverse psychology or some bullshit like that, so that I would learn to do all of this on my own or something…"

"Are you glad she did that?" I asked, not wanting to start a fight, but also wanting to get to the bottom of whatever this was. "I mean, you're an amazing mom to Ezra…"

Franny sighed. "Yeah, I know. But it doesn't mean that there aren't days where I don't want to pull my hair out. I mean, do you know how many times I picked up my phone, or stalked social media, just to check out Colin's family?" she whispered.

I shook my head. "No."

"That's right, because I don't fucking talk about it, ever," she said, her voice breaking. "I mean, I don't blame you, Iana, but when me and Colin started dating…"

"Please, don't say his name," I replied.

"I'm sorry. When Ezra's father and I started dating," she amended, "I really didn't know what he did to you, and continued to do, even after I told him I was pregnant…"

I sighed. "We don't have to talk about it."

"We never do, we never talk about it, Iana," she said quietly. "You told me about that night at homecoming, but I didn't want to listen, because I was fucking drunk. And then I found out I was pregnant, and you wanted to pretend like it didn't happen…"

"I guess it was because I wanted Ezra to have a shot at having a dad," I said quietly. "I just wish I'd thought of the fact that, because he did what he did to me, that he could do it to other people, or to him…"

"Hey," Franny said then, reaching out and taking my hand, "I don't blame you. For any of it. I'm just glad that you saved me."

I smirked. "Guess it's good to have a lawyer or two in my family," I replied. "If I didn't, I could've been labeled a juvenile delinquent, and potentially locked up for life. Your testimony really helped me, and then my diagnosis was just around the corner. Sure, I have an insanity defense on my record now, but what can you do?"

"Mickey has one, too, because of your mom. Don't forget that."

I nodded. "I try not to," I said quietly.

I left Franny's house within the hour, driving along the streets back towards the neighborhood that I'd lived in my entire life, although I'd shuffled across the street a few times over. I pulled up to my typical parking space and hopped out of my car for a moment, mulling over the decision in my mind before I turned around and headed up to my childhood home. I let myself in and saw my mother sitting on the couch, going over the books for Patsy's. I'd assumed that her husband was in his home office, so I'd try to make this entire conversation quick as I shut the door behind me.

"Iana?" my mother asked, shuffling her paperwork and taking off her reading glasses before she took me in fully then. "You okay?"

I nodded stiffly. "I'm fine."

"Okay," she replied, worrying her lower lip. "Are you here to stay?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "No, I'm not ready to come home yet."

"I understand," she said quietly. She hesitated for a moment, tucking a stray copper hair behind her ear. "Do you want to sit down for a moment?"

I swallowed then, hesitating from where I stood close to the doorway, but at last, took some steps forward towards the couch. "Sure," I said, moving to sit. "Where are the kids?"

"Clayton and Fionn are at a sleepover in preparation for their young architect's final week," she said, the pride evident in her tone. "And Carla and Charlie are over at Allie and Hugo's."

I felt my brows knit together then. "You used to be so close to them."

She nodded. "I was, yeah."

"What happened?"

She sighed, setting her notes to the side and turning to face me then, placing her reading glasses atop her papers. "I guess things really went downhill when I started drinking."

"You still hit up meetings with Uncle Lip?"

She smiled. "Every week. Sometimes twice."

"So… What, did they turn against you or something?"

"They thought my relationship with Tommy was…inappropriate. And, in hindsight, it was, but because I pushed the boundaries at every turn, I was able to get the necessary information to get Nicholas back into our lives."

"I'm sorry… That I can't see him as my dad, for right now, at least," I said quietly.

She nodded. "It's all right. I guess I should say I'm glad that Mickey accepted you immediately when he came back into our lives. His love for your Uncle Ian is unlike any I've ever seen, and yet, his love for you is incomparable."

I nodded then, mulling it over in my mind. "I never thanked you properly…"

"For what?"

"For not getting me a sentence of twenty-five to life when all that shit went down with Colin," I told her, my voice quiet. "I guess we never thought he'd react that way when Franny told him she was pregnant. And then, things just went red…"

She reached out then, taking my hand as Franny had done, just twenty minutes before. "Honey, you saved her life," she said gently. "Who knows what would've happened if you hadn't walked in when you did?"

I nodded. "I know," I said, unwilling for my voice to break as I slowly permitted myself to raise my eyes to hers. "Mom…"

She smiled. "Honey, I know. You've decided to keep the baby."

"It's my baby," I said quietly. "And… Andy may have proposed to me…"

She looked shocked. "He did what?!"

"Yeah. Son of a bitch proposed with his fucking football ring. I turned him down. Told him the baby was mine. He went back to L.A., tail between his legs."

She smirked at that. "That's my girl."

"And this might be my girl…or boy," I said quickly. "It'll be awhile before we know whatever this is, growing inside me…"

"Know that we support you, Iana," Mom said then, squeezing my hand. "We all do. We may not say it, but it's a fact."

I smiled. "Thanks," I replied, "for that. And for everything."

. . .

Mom gave me the day off the following day, and I wondered how far this special treatment would go on before she would finally get me back entirely. I didn't know how she would react to what I had in store that day, but at the end of it, it couldn't be about her. For once, it was going to be about me, me and my baby.

I watched from the window and waited for her and for Nicholas to leave their house the following day, before I got dressed in some smart-casual clothes and drove downtown. I said goodbye to Pops and Uncle Ian, who were being adorably domestic in the kitchen that morning, and permitted them to make me pancakes before I left. That morning, I was armed with very important documentation, signed by Pops, and I was on a mission, with my destination being a government building.

I remembered my mother telling me of her quest to discover her identity, and how she herself had gone to this very same place. Now, here I was, with a different mission in mind, but now that I knew myself a little bit better, I knew it was all for the best. I parked outside in the sunshine and headed directly inside, taking a number and waiting. When my number was called, I stepped up to the window and handed over the paperwork.

"And what is your purpose for being here today?" the woman behind the counter asked.

"A name change," I replied, wondering why the woman didn't look at the documentation I'd placed in front of her, but said nothing about it.

"And your age is?"

"Sixteen."

"I take it you have consent from a parent or guardian, as you are under eighteen while making this request…"

"Right, here," I said, pointing. "I live with him."

"Right," she said, scanning it quickly. "Looks to be in order…"

"Thank you," I said, not knowing what else to say to her.

"And your name now?"

"Iana Phillipa Gallagher-Blomqvist," I replied.

"And the name you wish to change to is…?"

"Iana Phillipa Milkovich," I said without hesitation.

"Your father's surname?"

I nodded, raising my eyes to hers. "Yeah, that's correct."

"Iana Phillipa Milkovich?" she asked, and spelled the name, just to make sure that she had it down correctly, without any mistakes.

"Yeah," I said, feeling a giant relief being lifted from me as I accepted my new moniker for the first time. "That's me."

END OF SEASON ONE


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